I can’t believe how fast 2022 flew by! And in all that busyness, I can’t thank all of you enough for your support of my blog. Time is precious & there are many writers out there, so I am honored that you have chosen to spend some of your cherished reading time with me.
To reflect back on the past year, I wanted to share my top 10 blog posts, ranked by popularity. Take a stroll with me down memory lane, maybe read one you missed, and leave me a comment below on which blog post was your favorite!
This was such a fun trip! My mom & I went on a girl’s trip to Assateague Island, which, despite living in Maryland my entire life, I had never been to! You can read about our adventures & get ideas for your next trip here.
4. Pittsburgh Weekend Trip: Mental Health, Music & the Monongahela Incline
Joseph surprised me for my birthday with tickets to go see Imagine Dragons in Pittsburgh! It was a bucket list goal of mine & a dream come true. And, of course, we made a weekend trip of it. You can read about our adventures & get ideas to plan your next trip to this historic city here.
5. 10 Helpful Tips for Coping with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
If you find you are struggling with feelings of sadness this season, give this blog post a read for 10 tips that may help you improve your mental health.
6. Why I’m Running the New York City Marathon
Running the New York City Marathon was a bucket list dream for me, & I got to do it alongside my team members at Charm City Run. Read about my running journey & what inspired me to run this race here.
Do you struggle with staying motivated, procrastination or finishing tasks? Maybe you’re feeling burnt out from a busy work schedule or overwhelmed with out-of-work responsibilities. Here are 7 simple tips to help increase your productivity, so you can spend your free time doing the things you actually want to do.
9. North Carolina Weekend Trip: Hiking, Zip Lining & Delicious BBQ
As I reflect back on the past year, I am reminded of all the good memories, the amazing new places I visited, & the new friends I made. But I am also reminded of the lessons I learned that have made me into who I am today. Some I had to relearn from years before, & some are new life lessons in my 24th year of life.
These 22 lessons are ones that have changed the way I view myself & the world around me, & my hope is to carry them into my next year of life.
Read on for the 22 lessons I learned this year, & leave a lesson you learned in the comments! Let’s all share some of our wisdom from the past year.
1. My emotional health is my responsibility. Boundaries are healthy, even with the people we love.
2. Adult friends are hard to make. It’s easier when you take the initiative to invite people out for a cup of coffee.
3. However, not everyone likes coffee (I know, shocking). It makes it less awkward if you have a second place in mind as a back-up.
4. It’s okay to treat yourself every once in a while. It’s okay to treat yourself every day. It’s okay to treat yourself whenever you feel like it. It’s okay to treat yourself…period.
5. Getting up early to exercise is self-care. Sleeping in a little more is also self-care. Figure out what it is your body needs.
6. My body this year has more curves & less muscle tone than it ever has. It is also my most loved body. It is still strong & nimble, but it has also been given space & time to rest. Your most loved body does not have to look like what other people consider healthy.
7. The people you have the hardest time understanding are the people you should take more time to understand.
8. Introversion & extroversion is a scale. We all need alone time, & we all need time spent with the people we love.
9. Lots of people are opinionated. The goal is not to find people without opinions – it is to find people who are willing to learn & not push their opinions on others. You should try to be this kind of person, too.
10. Compassion & empathy are different, & each one has its place.
11. You are who your younger self needed.
12. But also, it is okay if there are things about you your younger self would not be proud of. You are still growing, & also, your younger self did not know everything.
13. Three of the best things we can give ourselves: Movement, sunlight & water. These can also be called love, light & nourishment.
14. The word “no” does not always have to be followed by “I’m sorry.” Sometimes just “no” is sufficient.
15. You’re welcome is not the only way to respond to “thank you.””My pleasure,” “of course,” or (my favorite) “I love you” are much better choices.
16. It does not matter how slow you go. The miles pass anyway, & the finish line is still there when you reach the end.
17. You know the things you are willing to lose sleep over because they make you so happy & excited? Fill your life with more of those things.
18. Forgive yourself for any unhealthy habits you picked up when you were in survival mode. They helped you make it through to where you are now.
19. But also, just because those habits served you then does not mean they are serving you now. You do not have to keep doing them. Have grace for yourself in the process of letting them go.
20. It is okay if people do not understand why you love your passions. Do them anyway.
21. Dairy is not good for you. Also, I am going to eat dairy until the day I die.
22. It is okay if you look different now than you did going into the pandemic. Believe it or not, it has been a few years. And none of us were prepared for that.
When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to Solomons Island, MD every Sunday morning to run a mile-long loop around the island. Cold or hot weather, we would dress accordingly and go do our jog together. It ended on an uphill, and I remember my first time running the loop I raced ahead, taking long strides, to reach the top. My dad said I was a natural and predicted I would be a runner for life.
When I was ten years old, I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease. It was an answer after months of searching for the reason for the unbearable pain, bouts of temporary paralysis, unending headaches, and overwhelming fatigue, but it was not the answer for which I would have ever hoped. Over a decade ago, the research we have today on Lyme Disease did not exist. I was given a short bout of antibiotics and told I would be fine. But within six months, my symptoms returned without an explanation. The doctors were nonplussed. I was frustrated. And my running shoes were left laced up in my closet.
It took two years to get an inaccurate diagnosis of Fibromyalgia, which was the only way the doctors could try to explain my unexplainable pain. I was told the pounding of running would never be an option for me. The running shoes needed to stay put away. I dropped out of all sports, had a note to excuse me from gym class, and spent most of my days huddled inside, typing away on my computer. Besides running, my one constant and love in my life has always been writing.
Me with my teammate & friend, Alex, from high school XC
In high school, I began to feel pressure about my body size and appearance. Years of inactivity had not been the best solution for my health. I pulled the running shoes out of my closet, and against the better judgment of my physicians, went out for a run. It was exhilarating the first time I was able to reach a mile. But it was for all the wrong reasons, and the running nearly killed me. The running shoes were returned to their box and shoved in the back of my closet.
Some of my friends remembered me being a good runner, and they needed more teammates on their cross country team. I hated competition – my nagging perfectionism has always been motivation enough for me to perform at my best, so I always thought of finish lines, not as ways to beat others, but as exciting places we should all cross together. But feeling the pressure of my friends, I pulled the running shoes out and laced them once more. My perfectionism carried me to varsity level status. I ran through every nagging pain, every sign that my health could be declining, every little voice in my head that said maybe I needed to rest. My perfectionism was the root of my success, and then it was my downfall. I left the team with stress fractures, new digestive disorders, and a belittled sense of self.
In college, I pulled out the shoes again, but this time I was determined they would not get the best of me. After years of struggling with my health, my only goal was to feel the joy that running used to bring me – I had no thought of distance or speed. And for the first time in a long time, running felt good. It made me feel strong. After my morning run, I felt confident I could handle whatever the day would bring.
Near the end of my college career, I had the opportunity to join a team that was running across the country to raise money for young adults with cancer. I was stronger than I had ever been, and I eagerly signed up. I trained for months. Now with this new goal in mind, I pushed a little harder. My body screamed a little louder. But old habits die hard. I flew out to California, injured and already feeling a little unwell, but unwilling to let such a good opportunity slip away. Unfortunately, the injuries only got worse, and my health followed. I felt misunderstood and unwanted by some of my teammates. I returned to Maryland with shin splints, swollen ankles, a hip riddled with bursitis and tendinitis, and the lowest self-esteem I have ever had in my life. I threw my running shoes back in my closet in tears. I vowed I would never run again.
Me with my 4K for Cancer team on the 4th of July
But as many runners know, there is something special about the sport of running that keeps calling you back time and time again. There is something about that feeling when the sound of your feet pounding on the pavement simply becomes the melody that propels you forward, when you get lost in your thoughts and the beauty of nature around you, and when you forget your legs are moving and it feels as if you are flying.
I wasn’t running any longer, but I still remembered my love for the sport. I got a job at the Charm City Run Annapolis store, where I was taught about the importance of wearing the right shoes, not just any shoes. I learned about proper runner nutrition, something that had never been taught to me in high school when I got smaller and smaller with every run. I learned about the importance of foam rolling, stretching and listening to my body – not every day had to be a running day. And it was even a coworker there that encouraged me to look into a Lyme Disease diagnosis all these years later, something that has given me a better understanding of myself and an appreciation for my body and all it is capable of, even after pushing it much too hard for so many years.
With new shoes, a new sense of self and a running community I felt supported in, I laced up my new shoes, put some Skratch gummies in my new hydration pack filled with electrolytes and water, and went out for a run. I haven’t stopped running since. I ran through the next few years of my life, which happen to have been the best years of my life. I ran my first marathon and dissolved into tears at the finish line. I ran for no reason other than it brings me joy and because I love my body, and that has carried me across more finish lines than I ever thought possible.
Me running with a few of my CCR team members
So, when I was presented with the opportunity to run the New York City Marathon, a bucket list dream that I thought would never come true, it was no question of whether or not I would do it. After years of struggling with my running journey, this is the greatest surprise I could have ever hoped for. And I am honored to be able to do it with the people who helped me become the runner I am now. And after years of being told I couldn’t run, and then running for all the wrong reasons, I am so excited to cross that finish line in New York for all the right ones.
I am not a naturally good runner, but I am a natural runner, simply because there is nothing that feels more natural to me than running. No matter how fast you are, how far you can run, or how long it’s been since your last jog, if you’re someone who has those running shoes sitting in your closet waiting for the next time you lace them up, you’re a runner, too. Take it easy on yourself, and tell that perfectionist part of your brain that so many of us have to take a break for a little while. And the next time you do lace up your shoes, make sure you are doing it for you. Listen to your body and give it a little extra love. You deserve it. Running, like life, feels best when you do it at your own pace, and you should be so proud of how far you have come.
I am excited to announce that I am partnering with One More Day in the month of September to help raise awareness for suicide prevention!
One More Day is a nonprofit organization started by a friend of mine, Amanda Murray. One More Day creates apparel to help raise awareness of suicide & encourage those struggling that it only takes “the strength to see it through to one more day…”
This month, we are offering a Sunshine Box special – buy a personalized box filled with self-care items for you or a loved one, & receive a One More Day shirt to spread awareness to this worthy cause!
Learn more & buy here (this link will open another tab & take you to our secure Evolve website to purchase the box).
She was a wildflower,
Beautiful, untamed,
Vibrant, yet fragile.
She was easily plucked,
Perfect for centerpieces
To be seen during special occasions,
And admired next to other pretty faces.
But that's not wildflowers are meant for.
I can’t believe how fast 2022 is flying by. And in all that busyness, I can’t thank all of you enough for your support of my blog. Time is precious & there are many writers out there, so I am honored that you have chosen to spend some of your cherished reading time with me.
To reflect back on these past six months, I wanted to share my top 10 blog posts so far this year, ranked by popularity. Take a stroll with me down memory lane, maybe read one you missed, and leave me a comment below on which blog post has been your favorite!
1. 5 Positive Affirmations for a Joyful Winter
As is common for most Januarys, we were all inspired to take charge of our health. 5 Positive Affirmations for a Joyful Winter was my most popular blog post this year! These affirmations were designed to help with mental health during those dark winter months, but they are perfect for anyone looking for peace of mind anytime of the year. You can read the full blog post & download the free printable affirmations here.
2. 22 Healthy Habits to Make 2022 Your Best Year
Did you read this blog post back in January? Did you adopt any of the healthy habits? Let me know! And in the meantime, go check out this blog post to see how well you are doing in your health journey this year, & to help you get back on track in any areas you may be struggling.
This was such a fun trip! My mom & I went on a girl’s trip to Assateague Island, which, despite living in Maryland my entire life, I had never been to! You can read about our adventures & get ideas for your next trip here.
4. Pittsburgh Weekend Trip: Mental Health, Music & the Monongahela Incline
Joseph surprised me for my birthday with tickets to go see Imagine Dragons in Pittsburgh! It was a bucket list goal of mine & a dream come true. And, of course, we made a weekend trip of it. You can read about our adventures & get ideas to plan your next trip to this historic city here.
5. 10 Helpful Tips for Dealing with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
Winter may be long gone, but feelings of sadness can still creep in anytime of the year. If you find that you are struggling, give this blog post a read for 10 tips that may help you improve your mental health.
6. 7 Simple Productivity Tips for Busy People
Do you struggle with staying motivated, procrastination or finishing tasks? Maybe you’re feeling burnt out from a busy work schedule or overwhelmed with out-of-work responsibilities. Here are 7 simple tips to help increase your productivity, so you can spend your free time doing the things you actually want to do.
7. North Carolina Weekend Trip: Hiking, Zip Lining & Delicious BBQ
9. 9 Travel Tips for Budget-Friendly Trips in the US
At number nine, we have nine budget-friendly travel tips. If you have a vacation coming up this summer, or if you think you can’t afford a vacation this year, these tips will help you save money & make the most out of your future trips.
10. Sustainability & Health: What’s the Connection?
Summers aren’t quite the same now as they were in the days of my youth – eating ice cream, lounging lazily by the pool, & having nothing but summer vacations & spending time with friends to think about for months. But, I still think there is something magical about those nostalgic, hot summer evenings, doing as much as you can before the sun goes down.
If you’re looking to add a little more excitement to your summer this year, read on for 50 summer bucket list ideas for adults that can fit into a weekday evening or a free weekend afternoon. Perhaps it will give just a little taste of those blissful summer days from so long ago.
Joseph & me at the farmer’s market a few hours before he proposed
Note: For the privacy of my old friends, names have been changed in this story.
In second grade, you don’t know much about the world. You don’t know who is in office or who you are going to grow up to be. You don’t know what the latest news is or why everyone is obsessed with that celebrity. What you do know are the names of your friends, & you know when they are not speaking to you.
Second grade was already a difficult year. My friend, Maya, had already decided I wasn’t as cool as she thought, & she had moved on to a new girl to hang out with at recess. My crush found out I liked him & had been avoiding me for weeks. And I had spoken out in class about my special ability to see atoms & molecules, only to discover that wasn’t possible & the fuzzy things I saw on the walls were a sight impediment.
But the worst day was when I came to lunch, & my friends refused to talk to me. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. I implored Avery & Charlotte, the two brunettes across from me, to please speak with me, to tell me how to make things right. But they remained silent as stone. The following day, they didn’t even give me a chance to speak with them. Instead, they sat at another table with Maya & her new clique, & I was left alone.
Hot tears burned my eyes as I gulped down the sob in my throat. I didn’t understand. I thought I had finally made some real friends. I had spent nearly my first three years of elementary school friendless, but Avery had been the girl to reach out to me one lonely day at recess & spark a friendship that I thought would last forever. Charlotte had been introduced to me not long after, & the three of us, I thought, were inseparable. Even when Maya had decided I was no longer worth her time & had abandoned me to hang out with Aria, Avery & Charlotte had remained by my side. But now, I was alone once again, & it felt even worse than before.
Friday evening, I came home from school with tears streaming down my face. I sat at my dining room table & asked my mother what I had done wrong. She said she was confused because Avery & Charlotte had planned to come over to play that afternoon. When their mothers’ cars pulled into the driveway, my mother told me not to talk about what had happened.
“Just play with Avery & Charlotte as if everything is fine,” my mother said. “Maybe they will forget about whatever they were upset about, & you can all be friends again.”
When Avery & Charlotte came inside, they were strangely silent & shifty. I asked if they wanted to go to the playhouse outside, & they agreed quietly. Together, we trudged down the steep hill in my backyard to the bright yellow & purple playhouse. Just before we reached the structure, I heard Avery & Charlotte stop walking. I froze, unsure if they would follow me inside or not. I could hear them whispering amongst themselves, & I felt myself grow cold, wondering if they were making fun of me.
“Tyler,” Avery called.
“Yeah?” I turned & immediately they lunged at me, their hands in the air, large grins on their faces.
“Surprise,” they shouted. I gaped at them, confused.
“What,” I asked.
“Happy birthday,” they exclaimed. I stared, still confused, & then slowly a smile grew across my face.
“You threw me a surprise party,” I asked, bewildered.
“Yeah, come on!” Avery said. The two of them grabbed my hands & dragged me inside to where my mother had decorated the house with banners & balloons.
“We’re sorry we didn’t talk to you this week,” Avery said. “We were so excited! We were worried we would let the surprise slip.”
“We knew your birthday was this weekend, & we wanted to surprise you,” Charlotte said.
In second grade, you don’t know what the latest advances in medicine are, or where you are going to go to college. You also don’t know the proper etiquette for throwing a surprise party. But you do know who your true friends are, & you know just how special it is to have people who want to make you feel loved.
Me waiting in the doctor’s office during the COVID-19 pandemic
There is a parasite living inside of me.
It’s been there since I was 10 years old. I have very few memories before this parasite was a part of my life. And yet, for much of the last 10 years, I didn’t even realize it was still there, burrowing into the tissues of my body, making itself a home in a place it didn’t belong.
I have Post-Lyme Disease Syndrome (PLDS), a disease that, until the last few years, was thought to not be real. Because of this, the last decade of my life has been consumed by trying to figure out & treat whatever was causing so much insufferable pain & fatigue.
I had high moments, of course. There would be times when a treatment would work, & I would have a few great months. But then a flare would rear its ugly head without me realizing what was happening. It was frustrating, knowing that I was seemingly doing everything right to be healthy. The problem was, I was treating the wrong illnesses. Without the correct name for what I had, I was exhausted trying to treat 12 different misdiagnoses that had been given to explain my symptoms.
Lyme Disease is caused by the bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi. It is transmitted to humans through the bite of an infected tick. It is one of the most common vector-borne diseases, & yet, it is under-researched & under-studied, meaning many people go years without realizing they have it. This is troubling, because the more time people have Lyme disease, the harder it is to fight.
This was the case for me. We now believe Lyme disease could have been living inside of me for years without me knowing. This is because Lyme Disease likes to mimic other illnesses, making it difficult to catch. In addition to this, the testing for Lyme Disease is flawed in many ways. Lyme Disease is discovered through antibody testing, which makes it all too common for a patient to have Lyme Disease & still test negative for it because their immune system had not created enough antibodies on its own to fight the infection.
Back when I had Lyme Disease, we knew much less than we do now. Knowing what I know now, I should have received much more antibiotic therapy than I did, but at the time, it was believed the customary two weeks of antibiotics was sufficient. When my pain, fatigue, headaches, & insomnia returned just a short six months later, the doctors insisted i was fine & just wanted attention. It took another year to finally convince them I was truly in pain. It was then that I received my first misdiagnosis of fibromyalgia.
A few years passed, during which I paid little attention to my worsening condition. I became less active, succumbing to my pain, but that gave me an opportunity to thrive in my more artistic passions.
It wasn’t until high school that I noticed the brain fog, although, at the time, I didn’t have a name for it. I simply noticed that my mind was not what it used to be. As an avid reader & writer, it was odd to me that my reading comprehension was not up to par with my classmates. My memory continued to work properly, which meant, in the American education system of memorizing & regurgitating facts, my grades were still exemplary. But anytime I was asked to think abstractly, my famously creative brain failed to think through even simple problems or equations.
In my junior year of high school, my symptoms hit an all-time low. I had developed a number of food allergies, as is common with Lyme patients, & my gut health was suffering tremendously. I was diagnosed with IBS & leaky gut, but none of the treatments ever seemed to work (in fact, they only seemed to make my symptoms worse), so after a while, I refused any prescription pills. In addition to this, my anxiety seemed to heighten, & anything that deviated from my regular schedule sent me into a tight-chested panic attack. I thought it was simply stress-induced, brought on by having to deal with difficult illnesses. Compared to my physical symptoms, I felt it was less important & paid little attention to it.
Me on the first day of my senior year of high school.
In college, my symptoms finally found some relief. I cleaned up my diet even more than I had before, & I found a holistic doctor who treated my symptoms in the first way that ever worked. Exercise helped tremendously. I got off every prescription medication I had been taking, & for the first time in years, I felt relaxed & free. My senior year in college was bliss. I felt healthy, carefree & strong. I signed up & trained to run across the country. I met the love of my life. I ate whatever I wanted, went out with friends, & enjoyed every moment of beginning my adult life.
The thing about Lyme disease is you never know when a flare is coming. The unhealthy eating, long training runs, & lack of sleep finally caught up with me, & the flare came at the worst possible time – while running to help those in need. While my teammates were supportive, without the diagnosis or words to describe what was happening to them, I struggled with feelings of loneliness & misunderstanding.
My 4K for Cancer team on the final day of our run. Over 49 days, we relayed across the country, from San Francisco to Baltimore.
When I returned, I felt beaten & hopeless. I cleaned up my diet again, started taking my supplements, but it just didn’t seem to work. My brain was worse than before – I was stuttering over my words & mispeaking. Once able to capture a room full of people with 20-minute long speeches, all done without notes of any kind, I was now struggling to find words on the tip of my tongue in frequent conversations.
Answers finally came just a few months ago. After years of searching, months of talking to doctors & going to appointments yet again, I received the diagnosis I had been waiting for. I had treatment that finally helped. The right diet, the right supplements, & the recommendation to make self-care & sleep a priority rather than a luxury actually made a difference.
As of now, it doesn’t seem I will ever be symptom-free. At this point, PSLD, at least in my case, can be characterized as an auto-immune disease. When Lyme flares, I can try my best to fight the bug, but Lyme is a spirochete, meaning it has a spiral shape that makes it easy to hide in tissues of the body. When Lyme is hiding, my immune system is depleted, so the best I can actually do is not continue to break down my body by trying to kill the Lyme, but to boost my immune system as much possible. This, in turn, will reduce inflammation, improve my digestion, &, in the end, help me to feel healthy, as if there is nothing wrong. And if Lyme ever does flare, I know what to do to fight it back.
It’s been a long journey getting here, one that I normally don’t like to think about or share. But since learning my diagnosis, I have met so many other people who have struggled with it, & I have realized I am not alone. Which means there must be so many other people out there feeling the same way that I did, & sometimes still do. And I want to let you know that you are not alone, & that this illness does not define you. It is part of your story, but it doesn’t even have to be the worst part.
Like the plot twists & challenges in any story, it’s not what happens in the plot line but how we respond to it that makes us who we are. And we are warriors. Lyme has made me stronger, more resilient, & more patient than I ever would have been. But most importantly, I am more empathetic, more kind, & more compassionate. And that is why I am sharing my story. I want my blog to be a safe space, where people, no matter what it is that has shaped their story, can find a safe & supportive community.
Lyme changed my life, but it doesn’t have to define it. What I do with my life will define it, & all I want to do with my life is to bring a little more love & kindness into this world. I believe that love, truly, is what heals most. I could not be where I am in my journey now without the love I have in my life, from my family, my friends, & from Joseph. Love truly does heal all wounds. The love we extend to others has greater value than we will ever know.
The one thing I felt Lyme took from me was my self-worth. For so many years, I felt shame about my illness. I was embarrassed to share my story. I thought no one would want to hear it, & I didn’t want it to be what I was known for. But now, as I have said, I have learned love is what is most important. So, as much as this blog post is for you, it’s for me, too.
This is a letter to myself. It’s finally remembering my story in every painstaking detail, & it’s telling myself that it’s okay. It’s okay to be me. Its okay what happened to me. I still have value, & I am still worthy of love.
My blog is a safe place, for me & for you. If you need a reminder of your self-worth, of your value, pay this blog a visit.
No matter what your story, you are worthy of love. And I want to share with you what I am just now beginning to learn – the best love you will ever have is the love that you give to yourself.
There is a parasite living inside of me, but I am in charge of my body. And today I am choosing to show my body respect & gratitude for all it has done, & love for the strong & resilient body it is today.
Me during my senior year of high school, my hair freshly cut into a pixie cut.
Note: This piece was written while I was in college & my hair was cut short in a pixie cut. This is the first time I have shared this story.
My fingers absentmindedly stroke through my short pixie cut as I work on a project. I often forget that my hair is short. When I close my eyes and imagine myself, I still have the long, curly locks that I had years ago. But my hair is now thin, straight, and cut close to my scalp.
I tap my fingers restlessly against my keyboard, unable to think of what to type next in my essay. My teeth snag on my inner cheek, a nervous tick I picked up years ago when I was told it was not proper to chew on my hair or nails. In high school, I used to tear at that skin during exams until I tasted blood. I have scars now on both sides of my mouth, just behind my lips.
I try to twirl a lock of my hair, once again forgetting that it is shorter now than it used to be. My hand falls by my side, my fingers itching for something to play with.
I look up and gaze at my reflection in the nearby window. Wide, hazel eyes stare out beneath the dark hair. I should have worn make-up today. With my hair so short and my body so small, I could easily pass for a boy. I should have at least put product in my hair so it didn’t fall flat onto my head.
But, I am alone. Who would I be dressing up for? My reflection doesn’t care what I look like.
Why do I care so much about what my hair looks like?
My mom giving me a perm during my fifth grade year. I had always wanted curly hair.
My first thought is that my mother is a cosmetologist. I grew up where the phrase, “Go do something with your hair,” was as common as, “What is the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?” My life stages were marked by what my hair looked like, starting with the moment I was born with a head full of hair so dark brown it looked black; to my first haircut at two months old; to when my hair turned into a frizzy, curly mess in middle school; to when it started to fall out and became a reflection of my life falling apart. Stories from my childhood are frequented with plots about my hair: The first time my hair was washed as a baby and my mother was confused as to why it kept curling even though she got all of the soap out. The time when my mother came to school for Career Day and cut my hair in front of the class. The time when I cut my long hair into a bob, and my aunt and grandmother pestered me about it until I grew it down my back again. For every event in my life, the question was always, “What are you going to do with your hair?” Too many times I was on my way out of the house, only to be forced into my mother’s salon chair so she could iron my hair.
But when I really think about it, I am not all that unique in caring about what my hair looks like. It seems to be what is on everyone’s mind. Thanks to having a mother who did my hair growing up, I know very little about how to do it myself. Now, it tends to be that however it looks when I wake up is how it looks all day. But friends of mine wake up hours early just to curl or straighten their hair before going to school. People express themselves with their hair choices, either by cutting it in creative fashions, or not cutting it at all. People dye their hair bubblegum pink, electric blue, or midnight black to send a message. Women flood into salons every day to pretend they haven’t aged in years and dye their hair the golden blonde of their youth. In faiths around the world, women cover their hair to show modesty.
Hair is a strong influencer in the stories we hear, too. Strong female characters in books chop off their hair before going into battle. Princesses in Disney movies grow their hair long to attract a prince. Mythological characters use their hair as a weapon. Biblical characters lose their power when their hair is chopped off.
And when we think our hair doesn’t look great, it’s often the first thing we apologize for when we see someone.
“I’m having a bad hair day,” we mumble, as if drawing more attention to what everyone can obviously see will make matters better for us. And bad hair days often just seem to become bad days in general. If our hair isn’t doing well, neither are we.
When someone suddenly drastically changes their hair, it can be a desperate attempt for control during a time of trauma.
Why do we care so much about our hair? Why do we identify with it? What does it represent to us that other physical characteristics seem to lack?
Me in college when I decided to be a red head for a season
The interesting thing about hair is that we don’t just change it to reflect what we are feeling, or rather, what we want the world to perceive we are feeling. Sometimes, our hair changes to reflect what’s really going on inside of us.
For instance, when we hit puberty, our hair often changes texture. As we age, as much as we may try to fight it, our hair grays. It can also turn gray when we are going through a particularly stressful period in our lives. And sometimes, if we get sick, our hair can fall right off of our heads.
I remember the first time it happened. Eyes closed, showering, I felt a clump of it release into my palm. It wound its way around my fingers, clinging desperately to my wet skin. My breath hitched in my throat. My heart pounded in my ears as I stared at my hand in disbelief. I desperately worked at trying to untangle the hairs from my fingers. If I could dispose of the evidence, perhaps it would be as if it never happened.
But it continued to happen again and again. In the shower, as I brushed through my hair, as I cleaned out the drains in the bathroom, as I picked at my clothes, clumps of hair appeared throughout my daily life. I remember the day I ran my fingers through my hair to pull it back into a ponytail, only to freeze in shock. I stared at my reflection in the mirror in horror. There were bald spots along my reflection’s scalp.
The dreams came next. The nightmares that woke me up in a cold sweat at night. It seems silly when I think about it. Of all the important things that were happening in my life, the terrors that frightened me at night were about being bald, as if that was the worst thing that could happen.
Me on the first day of my senior year of high school
But my hair was the last thing that defined my femininity. My body had shrunk to the size of a 12-year-old boy. My skin had paled to the point that the kids at school dubbed me the “walking dead.” I no longer wore cute clothes – I was too cold all the time. Instead, I huddled in sweats that engulfed my small frame. Besides the vain attempt I made in the mornings with a hint of mascara and a swipe of lipstick, my hair was all I had. And I loved my curls. The wildness and spontaneity of them reminded me of a younger, freer me.
It was years before I finally made the cut. I dealt with my hair in a bob for a long while, resisting the urge to pull it back to reveal where my hair had thinned or completely disappeared. But the need to finally do something drastic became too strong.
So, where the obsession with hair started – in my mother’s salon chair – was also where it came to a halt. The last of my locks fell to the floor. I stared at out at myself in her mirror with a smile. I was finally free.
I stare at my reflection in the window, and my lips curve into another small smile. Sure, there are days where the doubts creep in, when I lament over my appearance. But the power to do anything about it has been taken away, and that has given me more peace in my life than when I vainly attempted to make my hair look more presentable. I am always fully me, wherever I go. I show off my bare neck with pride. This is the hair of a girl who fought hard, and is still fighting. This is the hair of a girl who is not going to give up.
So, yes, I still identify with my hair, as we all do. But it no longer represents the me that I am trying to prove to the world that I am. My hair no longer reflects the teenager I was, fighting to be seen, to be heard, to be accepted and loved by her peers. My hair no longer cares what other people think. My hair represents the strength, the perseverance, and the fight I have lived.
My hair reflects the woman I have become, and the woman I hope to one day be.
