So, I've had a tug for quite some time. It shouldn't really be such a big deal. I even question whether it merits being a 'thing' to blog about. Having said that, anything that creates as many triggers as I felt this week is probably an indication there's lots of stuff attached to this decision that needs exploring.
What decision you ask? To embrace my natural hair colour. I'm a natural dark brunette and I've only ever used a semi-permanent solution to cover up the grey. At 50, I have no idea if colouring my hair three or four times a year is considered often... or not. I haven't really talked to other women about their hair-colouring routine. I know I have quite a few silver highlights, but I can't be sure just how many. I guess I'll be finding out soon enough.
I've been here before though. I've vacillated over the last few years, but ultimately buckled under the pressure. What pressure? Not wanting to look old, of course. I've adopted this weird societal notion that colouring my hair will prevent the inevitable judgement that I'm not 20 or 30... or even 40. I mean, really, on what planet? There's this strange perception out there that grey hair automatically puts us in the unacceptable 'old' category. What's wrong with being older? I, for one, didn't care for my 20s or 30s. They weren't my best years and I wouldn't go back if you paid me.
But, I've also come to the conclusion that silver/grey/white hair is not what makes someone look old, but rather a combination of things like poor posture, poor diet, exhaustion, stress, anger, resentment, fear, feeling lost or stuck... and the worst culprit of them all: a cranky, negative attitude.
I don't judge whether a woman dyes her hair or not as good or bad. For me, it's about discovering who we are without hiding from ourselves... not playing small. When I think of the women I most admire, many of them have allowed time to embrace their wholeness. Strong women who know their mind, heart and soul. Kind women. Funny women. Wise women. Those are traits I aspire to.
At 50, I realize that I am the age I am. No amount of colour in my hair will change that. It feels like there's a revolution stirring inside of me. It's a rite of passage and it feels profound. I salute all women who are following their tug... and honouring wisdom over appearance, acceptance over judgement, love over fear.
The journey is never boring when you follow your own tug.