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Kiwi Crocus
18 July 2010 @ 11:43 am
Yesterday Mrs. Cav commented on how long my hair has grown (down to my bum). When discussing acting and standing out in a line of people wearing black, she pointed out that my hair could be one of the identifying traits. I mentioned, with smiles and a lilting voice, the identity change I went through with my Hip Thing and junior high - high school. ("Wednesday at Savers I saw a softball glove. It fit perfectly. For a minute...I was so tempted. And then I remembered, that's not who I am anymore, and that's okay. I'm someone new now. I can visit for a few minutes.")

I had a revelation while brushing my hair this morning. My hair was part of my transformation and the general path I took.

8th grade, pre-hip fracture: Smiley, long (bum-long) hair, able to be girly yet also tomboyish, took great joy in many things.
8th grade, post-hip fracture: Still hopeful, but growing snarkier, less enthralled with being female (however connected it was with my hip, which has just grown feminine before I fractured it), wishing to slash off my hair.
9th grade: Detest all dresses and skirts and anything I labelled inherently feminine, short-cropped hair, boys clothing, bound chest, sarcastic to a fault, distanced, mean with a somewhat gentler side for those I appreciated and respected, growing hopeless despite third surgery - my most difficult one.
10th grade: Finally had news that it Didn't Work and able to come to terms with who I was going to be in life, took up serious writing (NaNo WriMo started this year), grew to accept the more feminine and started wearing dresses and skirts too, grew out my hair enough to straighten it, changed my personality to one gentler and kinder, stuck up for those who needed it, girly yet tomboyish (even without sports), great joy on many things.
11th grade: Many skirts, many friends, many smiles, longer hair, more compassion, part of many communities, given up on MY hip but hopeful for the future, chosen to replace my hip, creative.
12th grade: Replaced hip, walking on my own two feet, leader of a number of communities, generally a go-to person, fairly active even with no sports, still very much a writer, great joy in a tremendous number of things, even longer hair.
Fresher Year: A continuation of that person, finally on my own. Growing confident in my ability to just be with myself again, this still 'new' person I was who isn't a jock, hair grows ever longer.
Second Year: Little remembrance of the jock self in me, very content, back into leading things, able to be girly or not, smiley, hair down to my bum again, joy in nearly all things.

It has felt in many ways like a journey back to that person I was in 8th grade, only that person grown into an adult. I've noticed the idea brush my mind from time to time, but my hair has often been an indicator of my progress along the path back to myself. It was a long path that brought me back to this place where I acknowledge that I can be my Self, the Self I've always been, with one core part missing (the sports) yet replaced with a more enriched connection to the universe through creativity (art/writing/song).

I feel as though I finally made it. I can still be me. I just learned to express it and get the emotions out a different way. Songs instead of soccer, stories instead of softball, art instead of archery. It's okay that a part of me will always wish to just run run run, free as the horses I used to so admire (and still do in part); I have an active imagination for that, and the words to write myself into reality in a new way.

(However, a dash here and there, just for old times' sake, never brings me too astray. (; )

Now I really need to go shower and get ready for my brother's graduation party!

P.S. This is essentially why I don't watch the World Cup or anything of that sort - it has always reminded me that I could no longer go outside and play. Tugged at my heart. I wonder if that has changed now. I'm not sure. New identity or no, some reminders still sting.