I deal with anger differently these days. I’ve started treating it as an inevitability, like a sudden storm, you can’t stop it from rolling in, but you can decide how you’re going to stand in the rain.
There are certain moments where nothing you do will change the outcome. And somewhere along the way, my reactions shifted to meet that truth.
Yesterday was one of those moments.
My roots had grown out dark against my light hair, and I decided it was time to fix it. I’ve processed my hair so many times that I should have known better. A summer spent in the sun had lightened my blonde to almost white, and it had already done more damage than I cared to admit. But I was stubborn. I reached for the bleach anyway.
And then… I melted the ends of my hair. Literally.
What started as an attempt to brighten my roots ended with me holding a pair of clippers, giving myself a buzz cut before anyone could see the mess I’d made.
I was upset. I was frustrated. And I was calm.
There wasn’t anything I could do. There wasn’t a fix. The only solution was to cut it off and move forward.
So I felt my emotions, and then I dealt with it.
And that’s what anger has become for me. Not a fire I have to feed, not a wave I have to fight, but a passing moment. Something I can stand in without letting it drown me.
Sometimes it takes burning your hair off to remember that.