Liberation

I conceded a war last night.  One that I've been fighting for decades. 

I stopped fighting my hair.

We went out for dinner with my in-laws last night, and after I'd pulled my hair back, I turned to the mirror.  And I didn't like it. 

Most of my life, I've thought my hair was too fuzzy- to wild- and that it must be tamed.  I pull it back, wet it down, tie it up, and try to hide it.  So last night, I looked at it, plastered against my head, flat and rigid.  It just wasn't me.

So I pulled out the clip holding it back, brushed out the top a little, and left it free.  It looked like me.  And it looked good.  Good enough that even several hours later I felt confident enough about it to take a picture and post it- even changed my profile pic on Facebook. 

In truth, the liberation is about far more than my hair.  It's about not trying to pull myself back- not watered down, tieing my spirit back, trying to hide who I am-how I feel. 

My hair is free, and so am I.