How I Cut My Hair Essay
The last time I made a major change to my hair, my young son was just 6 months old. He was sick. The kind of sick where I stayed up all night walking him up and down the hallway while he cried. The few hours a night that he slept, I laid awake listening to his breathing, praying we would make it through the night without an asthma attack. I spent many days carrying him through hospital hallways while he was poked and prodded, x-rayed and examined. I cut my hair.
It was long and thick and beautiful and full of spit up and tears. So I cut it all. I gave up vanity for the sake of giving all my energy to finding healing for my precious son.
Over the last four years Levi has grown stronger and healthier than I ever imagined. We found the source of his struggle thus were able to modify his diet and medications. Since then, he has grown into a clever, strong, very funny young man. In the meantime, my hair began to grow.
Inch by inch my long tresses returned, as I watched him grow in health and maturity, I thought that I was growing as well.
When we moved to Denver in the fall of 2014 I began a journey of personal and spiritual healing. My eyes were opened to the pattern of survival I had assumed while caring for my son. I realized that I had spent the last several years focusing all of my energy on him and the external needs of those around me. As I began to…