Dropping Baggage (or Hair)

For the first time since diagnosis, almost five years ago, I went to my hairdresser Jesse, and actually asked for shorter hair. After years of shaving and growing out after brain surgeries, I finally got to the point where I made the choice - the choice - to cut my hair for style purposes. I had no idea how freeing, and reparative it would be. That I would feel weightless, both physically and emotionally.

I have a couple of pictures. The first one is just after the cut.....

The second is the next morning, bird watching with the cat....

It may seem silly to get my hair done just before a brain MRI, a foolish choice since it could be directly followed with another bald brain surgery, but you'll remember that this year I vowed to not live in fear. Each time I overthink things I'm going to strategically continue on. I will not be paralyzed. It's easy to do, to become overwhelmed and stagnant. 

I'm still terrified, but like a happy sloth I'm slowing moving forward. And with half my hair gone, it should be a little bit easier.

The cut has longer pieces in front and it's a little shorter in the back. I'm the new 90's throwback: party in the front, business in the back, letting my curly flag fly. I'm kinda rocking my own version of a reverse mullet.

It seems quite indulgent to write a whole post about hair when it's not mentioning my huge railroad scar, or baldness, or tufts of hair coming out of a scab. My poor skull, and follicles, and hell, everything above my neck, has been through so much. So tonght I write this post out of happiness and gratitude that I am able to just allow the wonderful ability of a haircut give me peace of mind. I'll take it. 

There's always something to smile about lurking around every corner. Like that badass poem that one of you posted in the comments section recently. Man, I felt absolutely not deserving of such praise, but I printed it up anyway. I will be using it as a guide to strive for. So thank you for that - on so many levels.