Finding self-love through an unexpected turn of events

This past week was a whirlwind of emotion and chaos. With midterm season ready to ambush students with its sadistic sense of torture, angst and anticipation seemed to be hovering over everyone the past few days.

In my dorm room, I attempt to escape the chaotic world of college for a while, convincing myself that a new haircut will make me feel better.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as I inhale fresh air — exhaling the panic the last week had gifted me with. Reopening my eyes, I take my first chop. Dyed red hair falls to the floor of my dorm room — standing out against the dingey, multicolored carpet. My head immediately begins to feel lighter as I cut away the ties that seemed to be holding my gaze to the ground for the past few weeks.

As liberated as I felt with each strand that I cut off, I quickly realized the haircut I planned was not turning out well.

Instead of a light trim and newly formed curtain bangs, I slowly started to look like an unsupervised preschooler that got their hands on a pair of scissors for the first time. Suddenly, the stress of school was pushed to the back of my mind as I frantically attempted to fix my hair. With each chop, I aimed to fix my disaster hairstyle. However, I regretted the latest cut more than the previous one.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of panic, my hair was once again in a somewhat straight line, though much shorter than I initially planned. I instantly missed my long hair and how it felt like a blanket of security in uncomfortable situations — it felt like something I could hide behind.

Without my emotional-support long hair, I felt less feminine and confident for a reason I could not come to terms with yet. In the past, I associated long hair with my femininity — something I wish I had trained myself not to do.

Over the next couple of days, I reflected on the situation and what I learned from the stressful event.

First, I sought to redefine femininity for myself. My self-given haircut was the perfect instance for me to acknowledge that my womanhood was not defined by the length of my hair or the size of my body that I hid, terrified to be considered less of a woman because of my strong build. Each cut brought out my insecurities, forcing me to face them head-on — getting to the root of why I felt this way about myself. In the past, I admired other women for their physical strength. However, out of insecurity, I never appreciated my own.

With my hair sitting slightly above my shoulders, and a new perspective of how strength and femininity complement one another, the instance brought forth new confidence and respect for myself.

The second perspective I took away from this experience can be explained very simply — to never cut my hair when I am stressed and looking for something to distract myself from the pressures surrounding me. Luckily, my haircut somewhat turned out okay; however, in the long run, it caused more anxiety for me than it was worth.

Once my hair was cut, I realized that my hair was not holding me down — my mindset was. The timid girl that lacked confidence was forced to face her demons as she stood in the mirror, staring at a reflection that she used to hate.

Although it has only been a week since the short hair fiasco, I learned to appreciate myself and the importance of giving myself grace. I miss the false security that my long hair provided, but I am learning the significance of self-love that was brought to my attention when I decided to impulsively cut my hair.