It was the day of my 36th birthday.

I was coming off of a 12-day cleanse, and throughout the entire “releasing” period, I had felt an urge to cut some serious length off of my hair.

When I realized my scheduled birthday hike with friends wouldn’t be happening because of the weather, I made a last-minute appointment with my hair stylist (who I’ve been going to for years). It seemed rather divine that her one and only opening for weeks was on the only “free” day I had.

That day, after getting my kiddo off to school, I spent the morning in the woods, meditating, journaling… and felt truly guided and at complete ease to cut my hair.

After all, it’s just hair.

 My long hair and I had been together without much change for the last seven years or so. I loved my hair. It fit every outing, went with every outfit. Just by doing my hair, I always felt that much more  like “me.”

So why was I going to cut something off that I loved and was without a doubt incredibly attached to?
I couldn’t explain it.

It was this overwhelming nudge of something I needed to do… not necessarily something I wanted to do. I’ve learned to trust these nudges, even when I can’t explain them. Especially when I can’t explain them.

I sat down in my stylist’s chair, pointed to the length I was thinking — not realizing that it was 7 inches above where my hair currently fell to — and the cutting began. After the first side was done, my inner voice started some major pep talk… This is going to be so cute, she said… you’re going to love it. But within seconds, this chatter quickly changed tone to full-on panic. What the f*ck did you just do

I was looking in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back at me.

Tears began streaming down my face.

It was about my hair, but simultaneously I knew deep within that this had absolutely nothing to do with my hair.

I was primed for an emotional release, my hair falling to the floor was symbolic of what remained of the purging process. Of everything left unsaid, of everything that was still stuffed deep down… this was an opportunity to have freedom. To let it all go.

I got to my car and sobbed my heart out. It was the release of grief, stored anger, persistent fear and frustration that had all bubbled to the surface during the physical cleansing process and was just waiting for the invitation to come out.

I was grieving the loss of my hair, again knowing that ultimately this had nothing to do with my hair. This was a gift of healing for me, to surrender and let go of these stored negative emotions.

Crying is an incredible form of releasing. It’s a way for us to create massive capacity for happiness, joy and love. But in order for crying to work in this way, we must honor and recognize that it is leveling up and finding the true magic in the mess.

Over the next day, I continued to process this emotional release, and I felt myself softening. I felt more spacious. I recognized that this was also an initiation for me to experience detachment.

Detachment is beyond feeling “well, it is what it is…” Instead it’s an overwhelming knowing of “I accept this.”

While I was very much attached to my hair, it’s not what defines me. I felt every bit of the precious vulnerability that came with my hair falling to the floor and surrendered to the releasing process. I came out with a deeper knowing that life is constantly surrounding us with people and situations that stimulate growth. The stuff that holds you down periodically rears its ugly head. When it does, you have one job… Let it go.

I know I’m on a ride of constant transformations. In order to grow, you must learn to embrace change at all times and give up the struggle to remain the same.

So, when someone tells you, “it’s just hair…”

Maybe it is.

Or maybe it will be a gift to create space for so much more.

Love yourself fiercely,


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