Letting Go...Embracing Change...

Living the Life I Dream


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Over the past eighteen years, my hair has been every color from a too dark brown to a light, light blonde. I’ve had highlights and lowlights and washes and tints. I turned my hair green once and a lovely shade of apricot on two separate occasions. All of this has been in an attempt to cover the gray that started poking through somewhere around my thirtieth birthday.

My grandmother’s hair was completely white by the time she was eighteen. My mother’s by the time she had me at twenty-two. I always thought their white hair was beautiful and unique. Neither of them attempted to color their hair, ever. They accepted their genetics and wore their snowy locks like a glorious crown.

In spite of this example, when I found my first white hair, panic immediately set in. I didn’t feel ready to be a white-haired lady, and I rushed off to find a solution to what I deemed a problem. I’ve been doggedly trying to cover my white hairs ever since.

At first it was easy. A trip to the salon every six to eight weeks kept my locks the dark brown of my youth. In recent years, the quest to cover the gray has become tedious to say the least. Nothing I or any stylist does effectively conceals the abundant white hair for any longer than a couple of weeks.

There have been many times, especially in the last few years, where I have considered just giving in to my gene pool. I’m tired of trying to solve this problem, tired of sitting in a salon chair, and tired of the white halo that still emerges after every attempt to hide it. I’ll let the white grow in for a month or two but, in the end, I always head back to the stylist for another hit of color.

I have several friends, who like me, started silvering at a tender age. Unlike me, they didn’t hide it. I think they’re beautiful. In addition, whenever I see a woman with snowy locks, I always do a double take. I think they are stunning. So the questions remains, why can’t I do the same. Why can’t I allow nature to take it’s course.

A few weeks ago, frustrated at this dilemma I did an image search for “white hair” and came across photo after photo of gorgeous white haired women. I drove my spouse crazy forcing him to look at the pictures while I discussed at great length whether or not I should just begin the silvering process. I politely accosted random women I met to discuss their beautiful heads of silver hair. They were all kind enough to offer me tips to make the transition easier.

In the end, it all came down to Denise Wade. My best friend for fifteen plus years, she grew up in her mother’s salon and has built a stellar career as a stylist. She gives the best cuts (if you live anywhere near Temecula, CA you must look her up) and I knew that she would be brutally honest.

She’s not a fan of silver hair, but I pled my case, showed her some photos, and promised that I would do my best to not become frumpy. I explained that I was going for hip and mature. After much contemplation, she decided that my skin color might be compatible with white locks. She decided I could give it a try.

Prior to visiting her in California, I had already allowed about three quarters of an inch of white to grow. I had  also done a pre-cut to a chin length bob to get rid of the old tinted hair and to make the transition to white faster. Over the next four days Denise worked her magic. Two rounds of highlights, several rinses, and a cut later, I was not quite white but the lightest I’d ever had my hair, and it was shorter than I’d had it  since my mid twenties.

The whole experience has been unnerving to say the least. I don’t think I look bad but I definitely look different. People who’ve just met me, have had favorable comments, and my friends are supportive. My kid’s reactions have been reserved and in a moment when I caught my poor husband off guard the man agreed that I looked like a middle-aged southern belle. Yes, he still regrets it. Bless his heart.

Everyone says it’s a process and I keep reminding myself of this every time I catch a glimpse of the stranger in the mirror that is now me. In the end, when the last remnants of brown and blond are ancient history and when my hair has grown into the style I want, then and only then will I decide if I like this silvering thing.

If at any point I tire of the process, I can always haul my self into the salon for a color fix. In the meantime, I’m just going to keep leaning in and embracing the change. Thank goodness silvering is a choice.

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A Delicate Matter

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A Delicate Matter

“You share with people who earn the right to hear your story.” Dr. Brene Brown

It’s a delicate matter. It really is.

I really don’t know how to proceed. As I consider my options, a lot is coming up for me and  I keep hearing the words “earned the right” in my head over and over again.

I agree with those who say we have people in our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. As a person who heavily vests myself in those who cross my path, I don’t always like this. As someone who doesn’t want to let go, who wants to stay in the thick of it and work things out, I’m beginning to accept this truth. I’m slowly becoming more at peace with the idea that some people are just reason/season folks and that it’s o.k. It’s really o.k.

Because the bottom line is that not everyone has “earned the right” to hear my truth. Not everyone gets to call me on my bullshit. I don’t always have to work through it or hash it out.

It’s a delicate matter. It really is.

I really don’t know how to proceed. I’m really not sure how one sets the criteria to determine who has earned the right. I’m really not sure how one decides when enough is enough.

I know that for me it’s been a complicated and convoluted journey. I do have a few breaking points, but mostly I’ve had too many spongy boundaries; too many second and third and one thousand and ninety-eighth chances. I’m getting better. I know that at the end of the day the only person who I can save/change is me. I believe that being honest and standing firm in my truth is the best I can do on any day. It’s the best any of us can do.

Because the bottom line is that not everyone wants or needs to be saved (especially by me). People really need to be given the time and the space and the freedom to own their journey, to walk their path, and work out their own issues at their own pace.

It’s a delicate matter. It really is.

I really don’t know how to proceed. My heart is filled with love and respect. I am here and I will stay. I will continue to show up, to be loving, and to be present. I hope that I have earned the right to hear the truth, to call bullshit, and to be part of the conversation as it’s worked through and hashed out.

Because the bottom line is that we need to make sure that the people we allow in our lives have the highest and best intentions for us. We each deserve to be surrounded by people who love and accept us. People who support us. People willing to hold space for us.

It’s a delicate matter. It really is.

I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I say the wrong things. I do the wrong things. All. The. Time. I ask myself…When I mess up do I make up? Do I apologize? Do I try to fix it? I mean really try to fix it. Or do I arrogantly cleave to my right to be right?

Because the bottom line is that we need realize that while love is unconditional relationships aren’t. Ever. Relationships have conditions and boundaries. Relationships require mutual trust and respect. Always. Relationships require compassion and empathy and time and space.

We earn the right to be in relationships one word, one gesture, one kindness, and one apology at a time.

It’s a delicate matter. It really is.

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“Good boundaries don’t occur naturally. They need to be studied and practiced.” – Nina McIntosh

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about holding space for myself and for what’s important. Once I cut through all the goal setting drama and still more drama and then some additional drama and got down to the business of really deciding what I wanted, I realized that none of it was going to happen unless I chose to hold space for what I had decided was most important.

As much as I was deciding what I was going to do, I was also deciding what I was no longer going to do. As much as I was deciding how I was going to live, I was also deciding how I was not going to live. I was separating what I wanted from what I didn’t want.

What I was really doing was setting boundaries. I’m not always comfortable with boundaries.

Even though I say I really want “X,” I also really want the option of choosing different on a whim. I’ve wanted to be able to, at the drop of a hat, do whatever I please when I please. I’ve wanted complete flexibility and freedom.  Life doesn’t work like that.

  • If I want health, I have to choose to drink water and eat good foods and work out.
  • If I want friends, I have to spend time with awesome people.
  • If I want work I love, I have to figure out what I really like to do, do it, and be willing to accept compensation for my efforts.
  • If I want to learn new skills, I have to invest time and money in programs and books to teach me what I need to know.
  • If I want to write, I have to write. 
  • If I want to save money, I can’t spend it.

It’s sounds pretty easy, but it’s some of the hardest work I’ve ever done. It’s easy to eat crap and lay around and watch bad TV and work a job you don’t love and buy the cute dress. But showing up, being present, being intentional, staying on course is hard, hard work.

As I move through my day I constantly question myself. Is this moving me towards my goals? Do I feel expansive in this situation? Is this helping or hindering my progress? Is this the best choice for me, right now?

What I’m finding is I’m beginning to feel more comfortable with boundaries. I’m starting to realize they protect me and keep me on track.

I’m thinking about putting my boundaries in writing. This scares me, just like writing down my goals, populating my vision boards with images, and making a bucket list scared me. What I realize now is that there is power in committing our thoughts to words and images. So, I think I’ll devote some time in the upcoming months to defining in writing just where my boundaries lie.

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On The Cusp

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On The Cusp

“Wherever the fates lead us let us follow.” – Virgil

Recently, I find myself on a cusp. I’ve been eliminating and simplifying, carefully considering the value and necessity of what I keep in my life. I’ve turned in my notice at the J-O-B and am intently working on a few projects that I will be sharing soon. I feel for the first time in a very long time that I am in transition; an extremely good transition.

Right now, what I most want to do is focus. I want to go deep. I just want to give myself a bit of time to grow. I’ve decided to honor these urges by holding space for myself.

I’m still writing; even more than before. I’m still here; even more present than before. For the next little bit, I am keeping my attention on these projects and the things I need to learn to bring them to fruition. I’m tending to my soul and nourishing my body. I’m loving those whom I adore and holding them close in my life and my heart.

This website has become a very special place for me. I hope it is for you too. If you’re so inclined, you can subscribe using the box to your right. That way you won’t miss a thing. In the meantime, if you need to get in touch hit me up on facebook as I hang out there from time to time.

Now, a question for you. What are one or two things you need to do to honor yourself and your journey? What do you do to hold space for yourself? I hope you’ll take a second to share in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.

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