Regaining Balance

No matter what you are healing from the path is never a straight line and believing any different is contrary to reality: We ebb, flow, rise and fall through life. When things are good it’s important to recognise that and likewise when things start to go off-piste. Personally, I struggle to find a balance between pushing myself to move forwards and remembering the small things that keep me grounded, well-balanced and healthy.

It’s a little ironic that the last post I wrote for this blog was about routine and the very things that I tend to neglect when I start to lose focus. I don’t think I’m alone in this. Most people would admit that life happens and those distractions mean they may not eat as well as usual or their sleep patterns get thrown off or they stop doing something they enjoy.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though it can feel like a step back, the act of noticing that you’re not looking after yourself as best you can, is in itself progress. When meditating you’re encouraged to notice when your mind wanders off on a thought trail, bringing yourself back to centre again and again.

It’s okay for things to slide a little, as long as you notice and do something about it. It’s not a failure. It doesn’t mean you have to start over again. It’s a process and every advance and every retreat is a success.


Those who have met me IRL know that not only am I likely to trip over myself at any given moment, but I am also a walking contradiction. I want to live in a hot country, but hate hot weather. I’d very much like to learn to cook but have the patience of a small child so turn everything up high and burn it. In theory, I detest routine…In life, I thrive on it. Over the years I have learned that it is a required element for my general well-being or else things tend to go awry pretty swiftly.

Coffee in my panda mug is a welcome pause at the start of the day

While I don’t want life to be boring, doing the same things day in, day out, there’s something to be said for the little things that remain steadfast in our lives. There are moments during a day which anchor you. For me, morning coffee is non-negotiable and not simply because I require a caffeine fix for my brain to function! I relish the process of brewing the coffee, pouring the milk into one of my collection of interesting cups, and sitting for 5 or 10 minutes with a fresh brew.

I once read that a wonderful way to add a little mindfulness to the working day is to own a bowl specifically for eating lunch (or dinner…or elevenses). The practice, I think, stems from the Zen monastic tradition of keeping one bowl; eating from it and then washing it. The act is about finishing the task at hand before moving on to another, a lesson I guess most of us could do with learning.

Rigid routines, while they work for some and maybe for you, have never quite made the cut with me, causing more stress than anything else when I forget to do something or I don’t just don’t feel like it. I used to write out routines by the minute, but I found it just sets you up for disappointment when life happens.

So, I do small things, little anchors of time through the day or week; morning coffee, yoga, I end the day with a good book

In all honesty, it could be better though. Shift work and the nature of my job means I often skip lunch or dinner or both and sometimes sleep is more appealing than having breakfast!

There’s lots more work to do. Perhaps a monastic bowl isn’t a bad idea?

Am I the Lobster in the Ballroom?

Following on from the last post I wrote about Liz Gilbert’s book, Big Magic, I’d like to share some thoughts on one of the parts of the book which really struck me. Towards the end of the book is a chapter on trust and in particular an anecdote about a costume party…

Liz writes about a guy she once met at a party, who told her a rather wonderful story about his little brother…

Little Brother, an aspiring painter, saved up all his money and went to France, to surround himself with beauty and inspiration. He lived on the cheap, painted every day, visited museums, traveled to picturesque locations, bravely spoke to everyone he met, and showed his works to anyone who would look at it. One afternoon, Little Brother struck up a conversation in a cafe with a group of charming young people, who turned out to be some species of fancy aristocrats. The charming young aristocrats took a liking to Little Brother and invited him to a party that weekend in a castle in the Loire Valley. They promised Little Brother that this was going to be the most fabulous party of the year. It would be attended by the rich, by the famous, and by several crowned heads of Europe. Best of all, it was to be a masquerade ball, where nobody skimped on the costumes. It was not to be missed. Dress up, they said, and join us!

Excited, Little Brother worked all week on a costume that he was certain would be a showstopper. He scoured Paris for materials and held back neither on the details nor the audacity of his creation. Then he rented a car and drove to the castle, three hours from Paris. He changed into his costume in the car and ascended the castle steps. He gave his name to the butler, who found him on the guest list and politely welcomed him in. Little Brother entered the ballroom, head held high.

Upon which he immediately realised his mistake.

This was indeed a costume party – his new found friends had not misled him there – but he had missed one detail in translation: This was a themed costume party. The theme was “a medieval court.”

And Little Brother was dressed as a lobster.

A 6-foot tall man, in a lobster red leotard and tights. With antenna… This idea that, at all times, not just when putting our creative ideas out into the world, we are baring ourselves to everyone about us and that means taking the risk that people will point and laugh at you instead of going “that’s so cool!”

I feel this way when I let others read my poetry, when I share new music I’ve discovered in the depths of the internet, when I wear the most outrageously coloured, floaty outfits in the midst of Dorset’s uniform of tweed and wellies and when I wear my hair wild and curly instead of straight.

There are those of us in life who are perpetually a big red lobster, one that lopes around the dance floor, crashing antenna into shit while everyone else, elegantly dressed, dances the pre-agreed steps. But whether those following the routine cheer in support, asking how you made the extra legs protruding from your mid-section or whisper critique to each other about the costumed crustacean in the room, makes not one smidge of difference.

We’re going to create. It’s not my job, nor yours, to be concerned over other’s opinions of what you bring to the ballroom.

Just bring it.

Reading List: Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

Image of Big Magic Book

Liz and I have a somewhat odd relationship. We’ve never met and she has no idea who I am, yet I feel a familiarity about her. Perhaps because in all her writings as Elizabeth Gilbert, her voice seems so intrinsically “her” on the page that she could almost be sat across a table in a cafe, nursing a cup of something delightfully warm, imparting the kind of knowledge only your most trusted friend would supply.

If an audio book could show its well-thumbed, dog eared pages, you’d either be alarmed at the state of them or in complete awe of the mental notes pencilled across the margins of my copy of Eat, Pray, Love. Far behind the crowds by a long shot, I came across her years after the height of her success, during a turbulent time in my life, and that audio book played on repeat for several months, her voice the only thing that was able to soothe my mind’s darkest moments.

I’d pre ordered Big Magic with the intention of reading it as soon as the parcel dropped on my mat, but life happened (as it often does) and it became one of the few books I’d lean against the spines of the rest of my collection, as if to say “this one next…”

In the years that have passed since Liz and I last met on the pages of a book, I’d forgotten her a little, and as I read I found she was still the beautiful wordsmith I remembered; still filled with all the intelligence and wit in the world; an old friend who’d once guided me off the ledge of my own life allowing me to rebuild myself stronger yet different.


The important thing to remember… about that exhilarating encounter between a human being and divine creative inspiration… is that you cannot expect it to be there for you all the time. It will come and go, and you must let it come and go.


In Big Magic she talks about throwing all caution to the wind, taking the hand of creativity and inspiration when it appears, and skipping off down the path of an idea. It might be a dead end, none of us will know until we reach it. Maybe it will fork off into another more interesting idea or lead us to the masterpiece of our lives. Or not. Maybe. Perhaps. And if that spark of inspiration doesn’t come to play for months or years, what then? Are we destined to wait around for inspiration to rock up and present us with the best thing we’ve ever written, painted, or crocheted? Liz says it’s better for inspiration to find us working. In essence, don’t stop, even when it’s painful and everything you create feels like it’s not quite right, because eventually… inspiration will flit in through a gap in the tiles when you least expect it, and you’ve got to be ready.

The book explains the paradox of the need for creative fear: that although we shouldn’t nurture fear, it does come hand in hand with creativity, and we can’t throw a hissy fit about the fact it’s there. Nothing will change that. Fear is so instinctual in us; it’s a necessary part of human existence. The moment we stop experiencing fear is the moment we stop questioning, and those questions are as important as it is to know when to tell fear to sit down and shut up. Liz even goes as far as to prepare a welcoming speech of sorts, to both welcome and put fear in its place.


Dear Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently your job is to induce complete panic whenever I’m about to do anything interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but, understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making any decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the road maps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.


It’s also refreshing to hear the gentle, but just tough enough “Liz Gilbert Smackdown”. Yes, fear may try to hold you back, but you are also very much responsible for your ability to show up for the work. None of us should put all the blame on fear. This very week, for example, I’d cracked open the stash of Kalms I keep in the back of a kitchen cupboard in case of emergencies, to try to counteract the crippling anxiety that came over me every time I attempted to write something. I understand more than most that saying “feel the fear and do it anyway” isn’t always a feasible option when it comes to anxiety; there’s no rhyme nor reason to it, but I know where it started. FEAR.

What made me keep coming back to the keyboard this week, was the notion that I had a choice. I could choose to let fear and anxiety win or I could continue to do my part, show up, sit, even if it yielded no notable work whatsoever.

But I would show the fuck up.

And I did. And it felt good.

4 Reasons you should know your Myers Briggs Personality Type

I do this thing, which I have adorably (cough cough) termed as “Pinterest Therapy”, where I pin everything within the wormhole of Pinterest, which resonates with me on various issues I’m dealing with at that moment, and eventually, over time, I don’t feel the need to pin on that topic anymore. (I find this a really useful practice btw and hands down my favourite time waster!)

Who is INFJ? Is this the new Atticus, anonymous poet of the interwebs? I pinned it to one side and, thanks to the beauty of internet algorithms, suddenly all these other INFJ images kept floating about my feed and each and every one of them resonated with me.

Curious as ever, I came to discover via the knowledge fountain that is Google, INFJ is not, as I had previously suspected, an anonymous poet, living in abject poverty, with her windows covered in floral sheets purchased at a flea market, but, in fact, a personality type, part of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator. Oh, how my imagination had failed me… Katharine and Isobel, a mother and daughter team, built this self-questionnaire based on the psychological theories of Carl Jung. The idea is that our personalities are made up of preferences and these preferences influence how we experience the world. The test looks at 4 areas of our selves:

  • How we gain energy – Extraversion (E) or Introversion (I)
  • How we gather information – Sensing (S)or Intuition (N)
  • How you make decisions – Thinking (T) or Feeling (F)
  • How you live your life – Judging (J) or Perceiving (P)

Turns out I (or Pinterest… which ever way you want to look at it!) was right, I’m an INFJ.

But why should you be interested in your type?

Understand your strengths and weaknesses

The Myers Briggs Types are based on preferences, meaning when you understand your strengths you can get to work developing your weaknesses. Some of these things may not come naturally to you, but when you know where you need to work a little harder suddenly you are able to improve your skills across all areas. For example, as an INFJ I’m prone to burn out really easily, so I’m learning to balance my life better by not taking on extra responsibilities, which is hard because on the other hand I also want to help everyone.

Get cool with who you are

I put pressure on myself because I was one way around people and another way at home. I felt like I was a walking contradiction! Why couldn’t I be my authentic self? Well, INFJs are known for this “walking contradiction”. They are the extroverted introverts of our world. Realising this gave me the opportunity to relax into myself. Knowing how you recharge is, I think, so important because if you’re trying to force yourself into being something that doesn’t come naturally to you, you’re not going to be at ease with yourself or in your life.

Find a better-suited career

Do you ever feel like you hate your job? Is it draining? Maybe it’s because it’s at odds with who you are… Just something to think about.

Understand other people better.

Have you ever thought that someone was trying their best to annoy you on purpose? They might very well have been doing all they could to drive you up the wall, but the likelihood is that they are experiencing the world from a different angle.

I’m interested to know what your type is! Hit the link in the Blog Notes below and leave me a comment, drop me a text (if you have my number ;P), DM me on Instagram… Seriously, I want to know.

Blog Notes:

  1. Myers Briggs Personality Test
  2. What’s Your Type? – TED Talk by Jean Kummerow
  3. Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Being OK with a Calm Life

On the wall of my studio, is a small quote pinned by the place where I make my morning coffee and nowadays I often come to rest on these words.

It’s okay to be happy with a calm life

And, boy, I haven’t always believed that. There’s always been a battle to fight when it comes to reaching my potential. I always held myself to, what most thought was, an impossible standard. Perfection is unattainable, a bar set so high it is impossible to reach. The struggle and continuous push of yourself to be the best is draining and while it works for some, is not a guaranteed winning strategy for success.

And what is a success? A million pounds in the bank; a large house by the sea; a job so stressful it causes you to have a heart attack at 30 or 40?

None of those are prerequisites for happiness or able to protect you from the inevitable hurt or sadness that life will throw our way.

Someone wise once said that the darkest hour is right before the dawn and what a dawn this has been. Slow, like the pace I want my life to tread, one that’s focused on living creatively, happily and simply. One where my worth isn’t measured by how much money I make or what clothes I wear. A life away from in-authenticity. Quiet. Small. Curious. Relishing in all the little things which bring joy and fulfillment.

To be ok with a calm life. What a rebellious notion in today’s world.

On Minimalism for the Soul

Life is full of stuff we don’t need, want or even realise is there until it falls out of a cupboard while you’re trying to remove a blockage from the u-bend of your bathroom sink. Ok. So it wasn’t just anything that (persistently) fell on me, it was one of those Wii boards we all had to have a few years back because it would make us a better, fitter person. Yes, I admit, I rarely used it. Is it sitting in a cupboard unused and unloved? No. It’s on the floor of my bathroom covered in gross u-bend water after it tried to viciously attack me!

What I’m trying to say is whether it’s a physical object, emotional baggage, or mental clutter, we’ve all got old stuff lingering around where it needs not be.

Recently, I’ve been doing regular minimalism sweeps of my home, removing objects that hold no value to me anymore. It’s a process, as I’m sure you can gather from the anecdote about the feral board of fitness, but I’ve found the act of keeping my space clean and free of clutter super helpful in attempting to keep my mind the same way.

I’ve known for years that the space I live in is a direct reflection of my state of mind, but I’ve never looked at it the other way round. I’ve always figured all that nasty crap was a required fixture in the corner of my mind and I’d just spend the rest of my days skirting around it, trying not to upset the pile when I reached for something good hidden in the centre of it all, only for it to come careering down on me eventually.

Could it be that all this time, as I was purging items, I could also have been taking a good look at what thoughts, ideas, emotional hurt, and mindsets just don’t serve me anymore? Talk about an EPIPHANY!

I’m a habitual dweller: I’ll pick out the biggest hurt and sit on it for a few hours until suitably miserable, but lately, a few of the old favourites don’t do the trick and couple of times I’ve even caught myself thinking… “Maybe I can let go of this now.”

May I can let go of this now. Maybe all the things that are superfluous to my well-being can piss off. Maybe I am in control of what goes on in my own mind. Maybe I need to take ownership of that fact instead of refusing to acknowledge it.

So, over the next few months, I’ll be working on removing physical, emotional, and mental clutter from my life and I invite you to join me. Let’s get together at the end of it all, have a big “release party” and move forward.Save









Boundaries and how to set them


Love yourself enough to set boundaries. Your time and energy are precious. You get to choose how you use it. You teach people how to treat you by deciding what you will and won’t accept. – Anna Taylor


There’s something which I find happens quite often to me. I’m happily living and loving life when a person asks a favour, wants me to be responsible for something, go some place, do some thing, delegate a task they don’t want to do to me. This is life, right? We should expect this is going to happen. It’s how we interact. The issue comes only when it’s something I DON’T want to do. Maybe i’m super busy, maybe I just don’t want to, maybe I feel uncomfortable doing the thing. And that’s cool. It’s easy to say no… Except for when I can’t bring myself to say no and I say yes and it’s overwhelming and it’s stressful and it’s making me miserable and it’s just not loving to me. Ever been there? Wishing you’d just had the guts to say no. I used to feel this way all the time and still do when someone sneaks past my boundaries without me noticing and pounces on me like a thief in the night.

About a year ago I had to come to terms with the fact that I quite literally had zero boundaries when it came to people asking me to do stuff for them. I was the girl working late past her shift to help out, the one taking on things that I had absolutely nothing to do with and which I knew nothing about, the one letting others take and take until I had nothing left to give. Unhealthy. I see it now and don’t we all realise when we look back in hindsight how wrong certain situations were?! A point arrived in the last year or two where I took a long hard look at everything in my life and it was then that I had to admit, I’d let a lot of people in that weren’t the best for me. I’d allowed them to take advantage and I swear most of them didn’t realise they were doing it, just thought I was being kind, but as the saying goes… ” Give an inch; take a mile.”


When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. – Maya Angelou


The process of re-evaluating people in my life and beginning to set boundaries taught me some harsh lessons, in particular to quit listening to who people say they are and to only pay attention to how they act. If you did this alone I’m pretty sure your friends list would shrink, but the quality of friends would rise. Learning that you get to choose who is in your life and who is not, is powerful.

Your Inner Compass

Put simply, your boundaries are made up of what you say yes or no to, what you are ok with and not ok with. The most essential tool for navigating your boundaries in all circumstances is your yes/no compass, what I’ve imaginatively named (ha!) your Inner Compass.

Imagine an ordinary compass, but instead of the usual North, East, South, West the needle swings between only two points: Yes and No. Broken down into its truest form, your Inner Compass is your gut instinct. It provides you with the simplest form of guidance you can get. No whys or hows or whens. Just a pure yay or nay. It has one single purpose: to take care of you. Listening to your gut is easier said than done. I know I had trouble discerning what my gut was telling me until I began to visualise this Inner Compass; it really helped. I no longer felt the need to explain why it was a no; it was just a no. No is a complete sentence.

When you start playing with your boundaries and begin to come into alignment with your Inner Compass, others often find it difficult to handle. People just don’t like being told no. Boundary setting unleashes emotions in others, usually anger or disappointment, but their reaction isn’t yours to own and it’s important to understand that how they react is not a reflection on you.

Setting Boundaries

Setting boundaries is something that happens over time. You’ll bump into situations throughout life where you’ll need to draw a line in the sand over how you expect to be treated. Here’s how I like to go about it:

  • Ask yourself how you feel. Get present. Like REALLY present when someone asks you a question. It can be tough to do in the moment so when the pressure’s on, it’s ok to leave the situation. Say, “Let me think it over and I’ll get back to you”, take some time to think about it.
  • Have previously thought about what you will and won’t do. Focus on this. What’s not acceptable to you? How do you want to be treated? What makes you feel good?
  • Get in tune with your Inner Compass / gut instinct. The more you use it the easier it gets.
  • Understand that setting boundaries doesn’t mean you don’t like the other person. It means you like yourself!
  • Be ok with saying no. Saying no is hard. You might be worried about letting others down or that they won’t like you anymore, but it doesn’t have to be done in a horrible way. Believe it or not you can say no and still be a nice person…
  • Make yourself a priority. I’ve come to learn that boundary setting is one of the highest forms of self-care. Put you first. Choose what serves you. Make a choice about what you will spend your precious time and energy taking part in.

Shame and how to deal with it


Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging. – Brené Brown


The S-word has been consistently on my mind lately, not because I’ve been researching it for a blog post, but because it’s in my life nearly every day and I’m not the only one. Shame is universal and every one of us experiences it (you know, unless you’re a sociopath…) Each of us has a story of some kind from any area of our lives. For me it’s imagining others must be looking down at me for having debt, that people think I’m a failure for never really taking a hold of my career and doing something “important” with my life. Those are my stories, the ones that keep returning. For you it could be a life trauma or something that didn’t quite work out at work or perhaps you had the courage to be vulnerable with someone and they shot you down.

What keeps these stories coming back? Shame spirals (as I like to call them) feed off our fear and lead us to believe that our truth will make others think less of us or won’t like us any more. Shame will crop up around pretty much anything it can, good or bad.

Your life is shit? Shame.

Your life is fantastic? Shame.

You can feel shame around losing your job or for making more money than the rest of your family. It’s nondiscriminatory! How very modern of it…

In reading Brené Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection, I learned that shame and guilt are often confused. Shame is different to feeling guilty about something; shame, in essence, is the feeling that you are fundamentally bad as a person because of the thing and the more we stay silent about it the more it grows and the more destructive it can be. Talking about it helps, but as I found over the last year or two, it’s important to share your shame story with people who have proved to you that they can stand with you in your shame with zero judgment. You’ll know immediately if you picked the wrong person. Either you’ll feel relief or you’ll feel that creeping sense of shame. Choosing the right people to share with is a learning curve and often a steep one.

So, when you’re deep in a shame spiral and ideally prepare before you fall into one, here’s how you can help contain it:

  1. Identify your shame and acknowledge it for what it is.
  2. Know who you can reach out to.
  3. Share your story with them.

The act of sharing your story with the right person can stop a spiral in its tracks and gives you an opportunity to really dig into what’s going on with someone who’ll take you as you are, imperfections and all.

Going Grey


I’ve always said that when my hair started to go grey I’d simply let it go and embrace it. When I found my first white (not even grey!) hair a few years ago at around 26 or 27 years old, I found it more than a bit startling. I remember staring at it in the mirror before yanking it out of my head and discarding it as if that would stop the onset of the inevitable and went on about my strangely misguided twenties. Gradually, over the next year, another appeared and then another, all around the same area of my head and in pointless effort I deliberately moved my parting to the other side so I could cover up what was going on.

And I forgot about this small but growing reminder of time until this past week. As I played with moving my parting to change-up my look, I found where my hair used to naturally fall and for a second wondered why I’d ever changed it. It looks better this way I told myself before I stopped in my tracks, staring at the spattering of white hairs all gathering in the same place. There they were and now they had brought friends as if my hairline were a rave they could secretly invite other follicles to…

It’s probably not that visible to other people. Like most of our hang ups, others tend not to even notice what we see as we scrutinize ourselves; 10 or so hairs, but it was enough for me to see a glimpse of how the next few years would turn out. My hair’s future was plainly lain before me.

I’m becoming a woman with a stripe; a badger of sorts, maybe a zebra? For about 10 minutes I glared at this aging woman in the mirror, detesting her for defying my youth. How dare she become old. She’s not done anything yet; her life can’t be over. A massive over reaction, I’m sure you’ll agree.  I cried. I’ve always admired older women with this flash of silver in their hair. It’s sleek; stylish, sophisticated and elegant. I always wanted to look like that…when I am OLDER.

But when is older? When I feel like I have life sussed out? Because I’m sure that most people, no matter their age, feel like they’ve yet to accomplish what they’ve set out to do. We’re always chasing ourselves and we won’t ever catch up no matter how hard we try.

It’s interesting to me how we let our looks and age define us. “I’m this sort of person because I’ve coloured my hair a certain way.” or “I’m old because my hair is grey.” Where did I get this perception from? I’m progressive, damn it!

My mum once told me that she’d started going grey at 19 and looking back some of my fondest memories are of us picking out hair dye together in the supermarket or with her head over the bathroom basin dying her hair and the cleaning that came after as she tried to remove her “natural” colour from the bathroom basin (and the curtains because that shiz gets everywhere!). She spent her life trying to regain her youthful looks amidst what I’m certain were body image issues that were never discussed but picked up on as us children tend to do. Determined to not follow this path I had openly stated  as a teenager that I would not dye my hair when I started to go grey. Growing old gracefully with elegance, I’d say. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.

I read  somewhere recently about women becoming ageless, deciding to let go of their numerical age to live without the constraints and expectations that come with age. A freeing concept, but could I honestly live the rest of my life without acknowledging how far I have come; I don’t know. I do know, however, that I wouldn’t be impressed having to give up the one opportunity I have in the year to have a party. I guess in the end it’s about how you view it all and how you actually live your life. I could spend the rest of my days dreading the next birthday, when the next grey hair is going to pop up, worrying about what people think of me and how I look, are my wrinkles showing, or am I too old to wear this? Now I’m 30, all this hair dying, worrying and stressing about staying young seems like an awful lot of work. That in itself is enough to make you look older!

My initial instinct was to cover up this grey/white army of hair marching its way to my shoulders. I could go red again, or blue. Or cover it with something darker. Black, like I’d covered my dyed red hair with for a friend’s wedding… or go natural… and just dye it brown. Just make it go away. Something in me felt so betrayed by my attempt to fix this.

We live in a youth obsessed world. We’d all love to look as young as we feel, but it’s not realistic to reject yourself for precisely who and what you look like, so as much as I would like to dye my hair a vibrant shade of blue to hide who I am becoming I’m not going to. This is me, cultivating a badger stripe, and I’m working on being OK with it.