Knots

I've been joking lately that my hair is becoming my vanity.

I'm a brunette with the blessing of natural highlights in auburn and blonde; it's almost radiant when the sun catches me just right. And these days it's longer, falling to my shoulder blades.

It's a beautiful thing, but more hair means more maintenance.

And more maintenance means more hassle.

I get these awful knots almost every time I wash my hair, tiny, impossibly tight tangles that take ages to work through. Most of the time I get impatient and either leave some in or rip through them.

Last night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and attempting to tame that knotted mop got me thinking.

The state of my hair was a reflection of my heart: a mess.

So many different elements have woven together at the wrong time and place. They were pulled, twisted, bent and broken until all that remained was an incomprehensible, painful web.

It got that way by accident. And now, my task is to untangle those knots.

It took care and patience to fix my hair last night. Slow, gentle working strand by strand, first with my fingers and then a brush. I couldn't just run a comb through my hair from roots to ends and expect results. That would have just left me with a pound of hair in the sink, and less of it on my head. Ouch.

I had to take my time. I had to go slow. I had to be compassionate and careful.

Yes, it took longer than I hoped and I was certainly frustrated, but after some honest effort, I was back to looking my best.

I have to step back and remember to treat my soul with that same tenderness and love.

I'm realizing that I'm not going to get to where I want to be overnight or as quickly as I expected. It is becoming a true test of humility to accept that the journey toward healing will be a long one.

But if I'm prepared to truly take my time, to respect what my body and intuition are telling me, and to allow others in to give me the help I need, I think I'll be okay eventually.

Scratch that. I know I will.