Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that I finally understand to a small extent my true identity.
I know who I am.
I know God's plan.
Seeing myself as a Daughter of a King brings miracles. It puts life into perfect perspective.
It makes crayons and kittens and Debussy important.
It makes media and fashion and clubbing seem so dim.
I got my hair done. This is actually a sort of saga of epic proportions. I'll spare you MOST of the details and simply say, "They got it wrong."
I went in for my birthday to get a beautiful natural copper with pretty highlights... and I came out with black hair (purple undertones, baby) and subtle caramel highlights.
They refunded me the cash for the dye job which was downright darling of them, and honestly: even WITH the purple hues going on, it doesn't look bad. I can live with it.
But I don't like it.
"Great, Alicia. But what does that have to do with porn addiction?"
Oh! Thanks for asking. Here:
Having blackish hair makes me look painted. It also drowns out my eyes unless I apply a hefty amount of eye liner, eye make-up, and mascara.
The ending result is something much less natural and something much more artificial.
Two years ago, I longed for something like this. I thought it was what my husband WANTED. And, by default, I wanted what he wanted because it was my job to make him happy.
Oh, The Evil Untruth!
Anyway, it's hard for me to have unnaturally dyed hair.
It's triggering to look in the mirror because it reminds me of the days when I believed I wasn't enough... that my body and what it had to offer were where my value lied.
But they ARE NOT.
I am enough. I am natural, masterfully created, unconditionally loved and seen by my Father in Heaven. And not that I can actually ever KNOW something like this for SURE, but I think he doesn't like my hair either...
I imagine it's like walking into the room of a house you built and find that your child has painted the walls black.
with purple hues.
Anyway, all I'm saying is that I'm enough.
And you're loved.