My Inner Teenager

As I careened down the rabbit hole of my psyche, a desire began pulling me from within that my rational mind couldn’t understand. Nor did it really want to hear.

“Dye your hair dark,” She said.

It seems silly right? So literal. Dark feminine. Dark hair.

But the energy was much deeper than that.

Since my hair had turned dark with hormones in 2013, I had religiously highlighted the shit out of it (this is zero shade to the gorgeous brunettes out there. I had just associated the dark hair with the dark, angry, ugly nature of my inner pre-teen, and I wanted to avoid her depression at all costs).

At this point in my journey, I really had no choice but to listen.

My hair shaman @un.rooted was hesitant. Like, are you sure?? Ok we will take you all the way down.

And down I went.

With this metamorphosis I shape-shifted into that inner teen and all her angst.

Her despair at feeling unwanted.

Her disordered eating that she developed to try to control her life and the package she appeared in to try relentlessly to make herself more consumable.

And mostly - her red, hot, angry victim. Her blame. Her shame. Her feeling of not being understood.

And her firey, pent-up rage.

I spilled a lot of energy here, as my entitled inner brat finally had her way with the world.

And she just wouldn’t stop as I looked on in horror.

I kept trying to reason with her. To talk her out of it. To feel the rage with her just so she would shut the fk up.

But she saw my game. How I was trying to silence her. Bypass her.

And she rebelled harder.

Until I finally touched the only thing she really wanted.

Acceptance.

And I hugged her hard and danced with her rage and laughed with her hysterical and I said:

I APPROVE.

I approve of your fury, your ugliness, your entitled brat, and your angry victim. I will feel this with you. You don’t have to feel it alone anymore.

You are allowed.

Now, she my best friend.

We kick it. She still comes around. And I still got nothin but love for her.

And my life is no longer about her worry of you rejecting her stunning, volatile, feminine chaos.

Because I never will.

And mine is the only approval she ever really wanted at all.