Living in Freedom...

I used to think I sucked at life. I remember being in church services where the Pastor would preach about living a life of abundance and freedom. I listened on different ways to "walk in my calling" and "live a life of purpose." I went to events, groups, read books, and listened to sermons about my gifts and calling. I stressed myself out with the amount of time I invested in finding who I was. Great! Another thing to add to my list of things to stress over. I did all of these things to be able to knowwho I was and what exactly I was on this earth for. Walking blindly is scary, especially when anxiety was the blanket I slept with at night. I just wanted to figure it out.

My own thoughts is what consumed me. I pressured myself.

I wanted to feel amazing. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to feel blessed. But, I wasn't even feeling myself. Where was this joy people spoke of? Where was this "blessed" feeling? I realized I didn't experience any of it authentically without any outside sources. I always had the need to be around people even if they were toxic. I always needed to be busy doing something even if it wasn't productive. I wanted to feel healed and free when no one was around. Everyday I woke up wishing I hadn't. This went on for years. My soul was in pain. 

And one day...

I decided I didn't want to feel like this anymore. I didn't want to mope around with my head hanging low. I was tired of trying to act like I was okay while I was falling apart. I had to choose to a mindset and beliefs that were healthy for me. I went to therapy and was even on medication. I was (dys)functioning as a mother, wife, professional, Christian, and friend. This was normal, butI wanted to be balanced and live in a state of equilibrium so bad.  I woke up one morning and snatched my power back and felt stronger than ever before. I refused to spend another day with my mind on 100. This is why I believe in having a healthy mind. It controls every single thing in our life. We don't just have it all together all the time. I've learned to live in my truth. I've accepted the crap I've done and experienced, took responsibility for my actions, and decided not to hold onto it. I released them and they are no longer factors in my life. 

I'm so grateful to feel mentally sane and healthy. I've come such a long way and have become my own biggest fan.

And there I was...

Apparently hair is supposed to be a woman's crown of glory. It's supposed to define femininity and beauty.  But...

#shorthairdontcare #nohairdontcare #bigchop

I've gone through phases of different styles and colors in my hair. More recently, I've donned a precious pixie. It was curled, colored, tapered, slicked. It worked for me all around until a product didn't agree with my hair and it began to break and literally fall apart. I had tears of anguish and disbelief. This came shortly after my bout of confidence during my "journey of self-love." This is what I got for professing that I was beautiful even if I was bald. My false sense of confidence did me in good. Did I really believe this? Was this karma? My scalp was hurting. I saturated my hair in coconut oil and wrapped it up in my head scarf because coconut oil is life.

I text my husband who's a barber and told him I needed all my hair buzzed off. He so lovingly said let's just cut off the damaged parts. I sent him a picture and said "It's all damaged parts." I think he was more distraught than I was. I was trying to be optimistic and boast a false sense of confidence that I had. I reiterated that I just needed it all buzzed off and went to sleep.

Monday morning. 
I text my husband while at work and he told me to go to the shop after I picked up the kids from school. I showed up with my head scarf as he finished a client and my heart began to sink at the thought of being close to bald, but I tried to play it cool. Once it was my turn and I exposed the "damaged goods" I felt my husband's heart drop. He had to cut it down to a 2 which is 1/4 of an inch. I was damn near bald. I have never felt so physically exposed and vulnerable. All I could see was my face. No makeup. No hair. Just my face. I wanted to cry but held it, wrapped up my head in my scarf, and headed straight to buy a wig.

I hid behind head scarves and a wig for a couple of weeks. Whenever I was home I treated my hair (or lack thereof) with argan oil, biotin & collagen conditioner, Jamaican castor oil, and took a biotin pill every morning. I wondered when I would wake up with a head of hair so I could look pretty again.
A few of my friends saw my head after my big chop. They loved it. I got daily affirmations from them --encouraging words, pictures, and funny memes. Did I mention that women are amazing? A few days, on a Sunday, I decided that I didn't want to cover my head. I put on some highlighter, mascara, matte lipstick, and threw on the biggest earrings I owned. I took a selfie (or two... or a few) and decided "Social media so I know it's real."  And it was at that moment that I felt emotionally liberated. I put on a new attitude, a new outlook. I didn't care how many likes/comments I got. I felt unshakeable. #BlackGirlMagic is real. There I was. Just me and my face.

None of this was on purpose, but let me share what I've learned in this process. 

There are some things in life that aren't going to react well with our spirit. They are damaged goods that need to be cut off so we can be liberated. We hold on to certain things because they provide a sense of security, and at times it can be a false sense of security. Sometimes we hide behind a false sense of positivity when we are really on a downhill spiral. Embrace where you are. Embrace the process. Feel it. Then keep it moving. 

What damaged goods do you need to cut off to be liberated?