Maybe it was the addition of a second child. Or maybe it was the fact that said second child refused bottles, demanded to nurse every 2 hours, and disinterested her sister almost to a point of loathing. Maybe the chronic sleep deprivation was just the tip of the iceberg and it led to the resurfacing of old emotions, old worries, and new fears.
I remember riding in the passenger seat of the car, both girls’ in the back seat, when I told Kyle I was having a hard time coming to terms that Vera would be our last baby. I confessed that I had no idea who I was outside of being a mother. I mothered other people’s children before I had my own children, for crying out loud! I talked about how self conscious I had become when meeting new people because short of talking about my girl’s, I felt like I had nothing of interest to contribute. Not to mention the fact that I mostly spent my days talking to a 3 year old and a newborn so my conversation skills were left lacking. By this point tears were flowing freely. I loved our girls and I love being a mother but I felt incredibly lost as a person.
A few more months go by and I was taking a shower, trying to detangle the mess that was my post-partum hair. Mattes, tangles and precious time spent detangling this mass of dead cells all because it was the one things I was holding onto as a person. If I didn’t know who I was outside of motherhood I was at least going to have kick-ass long hair. Beth with the long hair. And it was that thought that made me put down the comb. I rinsed the remaining globs of conditioner, got out of the shower and grabbed my hair scissors. I proceeded to cut off about 6 inches of hair. I wanted to go shorter, bolder, but I lacked the confidence. I even tried to pep talk myself “It’s just hair, it will grow back, why are you holding onto this?” but even my pep talk lacked the authority to really seal the deal. I felt lighter, not because I chopped a good pound of hair off, but because I felt like it was a step in the right direction. I needed to break out of these weird confines I put myself in. I didn’t want to just be “Beth, that mom with the long hair,” I want to be “Beth: that creative, adventurous , funny and interesting woman.” You know, that Beth.
And so I sat down at my desk later that night, hair softly hitting the tops of my shoulders, and pushed myself to think outside of the box. The new year was coming up and I was going to make the most of it. I was going to use this next year to find myself. I wanted to discover things I never knew about myself, push myself to be more, do more and give more. I wanted to create more joy, happiness and laughter in my life. I wanted to relieve my heavy chest and mind of it’s anxieties and imaginary burdens. I want to become that person I’ve always dreamed of being.
After an hour or so I looked back at my notebook and I felt a sense of relief. I had a plan. The hardest part was over. A few weeks later coming towards the end of December I chopped my hair another 8 inches and it felt amazing. I felt amazing. 2018 was going to be the year of self care, and I was finally going to work on finding myself.
