Hair.

It’s finally gone. I chopped it all off Wednesday night and shipped it out to Children With Hairloss the next day.

No more.

Hair.

The journey is over.

Now is time to attempt to be an adult? That’s the plan, anyway.

Adulting.

What fun.

* * *

Hair.

It has so much power.

In movies, it’s usually a symbol of a woman’s femininity and a result of a societal construction of man’s power over a woman.

The long hair makes them more desirable to a man, and that’s the whole point of a woman’s worth. A man’s property.

It’s a common theme in many movies where a woman would cut her hair and then kill herself to escape the man and society’s power over them and to finally have some control over their lives and be free.

I have a similar relationship with hair, especially when I was younger.

It was a control thing.

There will be times when things were getting out of control or when things didn’t go my way, I would get angry and shave my hair off.

Control.

Many exert their control in different ways. Some get tattoos and piercings. Others cut themselves.

I shave my head and a few years ago, I decided to grow it out as a form of control.

* * *

I didn’t realize how much of a control freak I was until I went to therapy. My therapist brought that to my attention and it blew my mind.

It’s true. I like control.

I like control over my life. I like to make my own decisions and don’t like it when forced to do things.

I get easily frustrated when things don’t go my way or when things get out of my control.

In the past few days, I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly prompted this…this need to do something at that time. I wanted to figure out what prompted that rut that I was in and it didn’t really come to me until yesterday or even a little earlier today.

I noted before that around 2011 or maybe about 2012 that things felt a little weird and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I got very sensitive and then the mid-life crisis started to happen. I felt like I was in a rut.

I couldn’t figure out what prompted it.

I’m sure there were little things here and there, like pressures from family to settle down and get married along with societal pressures of whatever it means to be an adult, especially someone who was in their early thirties and what comes with that…marriage, relationships, children, etc.

It all revolves that. That pressure. Societal pressure. Family pressure.

That was a part of it.

I now think there was something deeper, something a little simpler.

2011 was my 10-year anniversary of moving down to Los Angeles to live. I’m sure there were things about figuring out what I have done in those past 10 years and pressure I was putting on myself. The usual bullshit.

The rut and midlife crisis didn’t really hit me until the end of 2012 and early 2013, when I would go months and months without getting a haircut.

Why? It would have been my dad’s 10-year anniversary of passing away.

I didn’t realize that until yesterday morning, in the shower.

10 years.

I didn’t realize it at that time. I was aware of his anniversary, but I wasn’t aware of how it was affecting me.

10 years.

Pressure.

10 years.

Wanted to do good by my family and my mom and ultimately my dad. I want to get married and have children. The usual fanfare of what being an adult means and the girl that I’ve been crushing on didn’t feel the same about me.

Disappointment upon disappointment.

10 years.

There was just a lot of shit at that time.

My mid-life crisis.

The MLC.

That prompted me to do so many things.

I was living and was genuinely happy. I went on my road trips and my vacations, but ultimately, there were too much pressure.

5th uncle wanted me to get married, have children.

Uncle Sat telling me that mom would cry whenever anyone mentions if either my brother or I were married and have children.

Pressure.

There was a lot.

I want to make my mom happy. I love her.

Just pressure.

Mid-life Crisis.

10 years.

I wanted to make my dad proud and he passed away.

I’m all kinds of fucked up in the head. Still am. Just a little.

I’m aware and I know my faults and my psychosis.

It helps to be so aware.

* * *

2013.

10 years.

That was when I decided to grow my hair out and donate it.

My hair was getting long and I didn’t know what to do. I had no motivation to do anything.

MLC. Rut.

During that time, they started production for The Fault In Our Stars movie and Shailene Woodley donated her hair to Children With Hairloss.

I thought that was such a great thing to do. I never grew my hair out before.

I hate long hair.

I wanted to feel that I was in control. I’ll grow my hair out to see if I can do it.

There was a length that I was aiming for, 10 inches.

Let’s see if I can make it.

That was the inspiration.

The rest was history.

My hair grew and I went with the flow of trying to figure out what to do with it.

My funny and funky hairstyles, pigtails, buns, and what not were all new.

Ultimately, that experiment did help me grow. I’ve became more comfortable in my skin and grew even more comfortable with myself.

Confidence and yes, all of it was to help deal with my father’s passing.

All of it was done to deal with is 10 year anniversary.

It makes sense now.

* * *

That was five years ago.

I’ve since donated my hair three times.

The first time, I fell a little bit short of my 10 inches, but I did grow enough to donate my hair.

The second and this last time, I did meet my 10 inches goal. Not all strands were 10 inches, but many were and I was okay with that.

Will I do it again?

I tell myself no.

I’m approaching 40 in a little over a year.

I know there’s nothing special about turning 40, but isn’t that old enough to stop fucking around and just try to be an adult?

I know I talk about how I don’t feel like an adult, especially compared to what I felt adulting meant when I look at my parents.

I’m 40 and I still feel like a fucking kid.

I don’t know what I’m going to do or how to act when I start adulting, but maybe long hair and pig tails ain’t the way to go.

We shall see.

I may realize that all of this thinking about being an adult is just shit talk and do whatever I do anyway. Or maybe I’ll have another mid-life crisis and feel that my life is going off the rails and need another control trip.

I don’t know.

I have no idea.

As of now, there’s no plan to grow my hair out.

I love the short hair.

I love my buzz cut.

It’s so freeing.

I didn’t hate my long hair. I grew to love it. It was so freeing in another way, especially how I wore my hair.

I didn’t give a fuck what other people thought about how I wore my hair.

Pig tails. Multiple buns and whatnot.

Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck.

None.

Zero Fucks.

So freeing.

I wore it with confidence.

It seemed that many were fans of it and I’m sure many weren’t and I couldn’t care less.

I was doing whatever I needed to make it seem like it was less of a chore and more of a fun thing so I can do a good deed.

* * *

Hair.

Gone.

It was a long, fascinating, and wild journey with my hair these last five years.

It was free and also a good growing and teaching time for me.

I’ve learned a lot about myself and I learned to be more giving and generous.

It was a growing experience to be better person, which I strive to be every day.

I’m not perfect.

That’s unreachable and definitely unreasonable.

I know my flaws.

I’m okay with them, as long as I know about them, so I can slowly chip away at it and strive to be better.

Hair.

It’s made me a better person without me even knowing it.

It was just a weird thing I decided to do on a whim and it changed me so much and in so many ways.

Hair.

Even though it is gone, I’ll never forget the lessons that it taught me.

Embrace yourself. Be better. Be courageous. Be confident.

Ultimately, somethings just aren’t about you.