Theres something sacred about a black woman’s hair. So much so the rules start from the time you begin getting it “combed”. Mine were (growing up): You better not put your hand in it while it’s being done, turn your head (or get popped by the styling tool of choice) you can’t mess it up and you better not get it wet (or lose hair bow). These practices stick and stay up until you are “allowed” to do your own hair. This is when most of us mess up. I can’t tell you how many hair tragedies I’ve experienced in my (33) years. My most recent one happened during the healing process of my body after I gave birtk AKA postpartum. My hair never really recovered nor was it the same. I have never really been afraid to cut my hair but I really had this goal of retaining length (since I tend to cut it after a spell of impatience and frustration). Needless say, my last tragedy sprouted out of a mixture of desperation and frustration. Fas forwarding to his past Wednesday; I did a thing…
Here I am (again) starting over, building my confidence (again) and working on loving myself as I am (still). This time, it feels different. This time, I am not struggling in the privacy of my own bubble, I have a little princess watching me. I must apply more glue and keep myself together, holding my head up even higher than ever before. She’s always watching. We shared a body for 9 months and she’s in tuned with my emotions and absorbs all of my energy (positive or negative). I believe you have what you say, so as much as daily affirmations sound silly, they really can be effective when it comes to self esteem. So as I struggle to adjust to my “new” look, I challenge you to love yourself more and give yourself grace.
Moral of the story: Be nice to yourself 😘
Until next week,