fix you

Fix you.

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Days come and days go. There are people you remember and people you want to forget. You keep the memories of the past closely guarded around your heart. There are times you wish you truly could let go, let go with every broken way you possibly could. When life happens to hurt more than it should, you retreat back into your broken shell. Back to every broken memory you could possibly think of.

We are all broken battered people. People so broken with life that not even a single light could guide us home. We beg to the skies to make everything better. To give us just a better way to fall gracefully. We can’t help but feel the way we do. We want to be fixed of our broken wings and nursed back to good health. We want our shattered pieces to be pieced back together, ever so gently. Anything to cure us from our brokenness and broken ways.

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No matter what I do I am drawn to the broken ones. The people so broken by life that nothing seems to get through to them. Its the broken ones that need the most help. The most love out of all of us. No matter what I do, I can’t escape them. They’re drawn to me, and I can’t help but want to help them. Be there for them. Fix the broken parts and find a way to get through to them. I want to put a bandaid around all the cuts. I want to glue together all the broken shattered parts. I want to dry all the tears and make everything feel better.

But I can’t.

The more I try to fix a broken person the more it hurts. The more I try to piece back together someone, the more I find myself falling apart. I take all the broken pieces from everyone else and cut them deep inside of me. After all the broken ones are fixed they latch on to the light of someone else. All I am left is the remains of the broken hearted shattered pieces. Its when the broken ones have gone to live their lives, that I am left wondering what to do with mine. When do I get someone to save me from my broken self? When do I get a chance to patch up all the cuts and glue together all the shattered strands?

But I want to fix you. I want to guide the light to light your path to find what you’re looking for. Patch up all your broken bones and guide you home. Take every pain you feel and make it my own. Only then would you understand that I feel exactly as you do. That even the ones that stand tall, feel broken too. Every inch of my heart is broken but to take away my broken pride, I want to fix you. I want to help and cure and mend, every sense of the brokenness. But I can’t. The more I think I am helping, the more I make it worse.

Sometimes I need fixing too. Sometimes I need a light to steer me in the right direction. Need someone to pick up all my broken pieces and glue them back together. Seldom do I find a person that will help guide me through. Instead of helping all the broken ones, I should start with my own broken self. I can’t fix you, as much as I wish I could. I can’t put back together all the broken strands of pieces and make you whole again. I need to fix myself before I can think of fixing you. I need to help myself before I can help someone else who thinks they need me too. It’s only after I help myself that I can ever think of fixing you. But I could never fix you. You need to look into your broken heart and let the pieces fall back together on their own. Stop searching for people to help you from your broken shell. Because even the people that are helping you, can’t help but be broken too.

And I feel more broken then I am suppose to feel. I just wish I could find a way to fix you by fixing myself too.

2/16/2012

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Blonde Ambition.

There comes a moment in your life where you need a change. Something to go from invisible to visible. The years of playing the disappearing act and wanting that need to reappear. Better, different, someone other than how people remember you. You change your clothes, you change your attitude and if you’re drastic enough you change your hair color. I am all for every aspect of change, including in the hair department. When you change your hair, you change different aspects of yourself.

New beginnings and this constant need for change. If you change your insides you want your outsides to match. Finding myself shedding my skin from one extreme to another. Adapting these different versions of how I want to be and how I want to conduct myself. I want the change because it’s the change thats making me feel this way. When you spend these moments disappearing, all you want is that moment to reappear. The disappearing act you made of your life, now is the time for your comeback. I have done everything humanly possible to my hair all in the name of “new beginnings”. I have chopped it in different variations of layers, cuts and trims. I have dyed it every color imaginable, and yet I’ve always kept it safe. I’ve always stuck to highlights, honey glows, and if I’m feeling adventurous reds and pinks just for fun. At times you become influenced by your surroundings, you feel a peer pressure from your friends. In the name of growing up and feeling different, you take the advice of various different people.

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There is a whole process that goes into a hair transformation. There’s the “Should I?”, “Can I pull it off?” and then the “Screw it”. I have seen my fair share of “Screw it” with drastic conclusions. Anything then the ordinary, anything then what you see before you. Different, dramatic, drastic. When I decided to go blonde, I jumped off the bridge and did it. At the time I was going through a lot of different emotions and in the in-between stages of growing up and acting grown up. I had a new job, I had moved back home for what seemed like the 100th time, I just wanted something to show for all my new things. On top of everything, I had money. Money saved, money in the back, and more importantly brand new shiny credit cards to take care of everything. I loved it. I still wasn’t grasping the concept of being an adult but still I had money to take me to the next level. It’s amazing what you do in the name of new beginnings and it’s amazing the bullshit things you put up with once people know you have money.

When I went blonde, I thought a new change in hair color was what I needed to be an adult. I had seen countless of my peers go through drastic hair changes and watched their careers change. I watched their lives change from ordinary to extraordinary. I wanted that. I didn’t care how much it cost, I just wanted to see if my insides would mirror image my outsides. If I did all these things, would it change me.  What they don’t tell you in the magazines is how much maintenance goes into a hair change. They don’t tell you how your scalp is going to feel, they don’t tell you how your hair would feel, and more importantly they don’t tell you how you will feel in the end. I had people telling me it was a great choice and just what I needed to grow. Deep down I hated it. I know it was just hair, but even with a bad haircut I couldn’t just grow out a bad dye job. It is just hair and complaining about it is first world problems. This was my hair, this was my comfort zone of emotions. This was my security blanket of protected emotions. I spent more time obsessing over my hair then changing anything with my life. I spent money on every type of shampoo, conditioner, treatment, product to make my hair feel normal. I didn’t feel like a grown up. If anything I felt like a child hiding from a bad mistake. I watch the new beginning feelings I had tarnish then disappear. While I was more visible to the world, I myself felt invisible. Nobody saw me, they saw a big blob of platinum blonde hair before they even knew who I was. I craved the attention but hated the reactions.

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Sometimes in life you have to file things under “Great Idea at the time”. Eventually the going back and forth to get my hair touched up was costing me a fortune. The countless products to make my hair feel like hair again, were putting me in debt. Instead of feeling visible, I found myself disappearing. I put myself into a depression because of how unhappy I was. All the money I had went into making my hair feel like myself again. Everything I was feeling on the inside, wound up making it’s way to my outsides. It wasn’t just the hair, it was this need to appear to be someone I wasn’t. I was so severely unhappy with myself that becoming someone else wasn’t helping either. I needed to fix that. Equipped with a 5 dollar bottle of box dye, I did just that. In a matter of minutes I watched the months of unhappiness, darken into happiness.

While everything I was feeling was deeply rooted by my past, I knew it was a journey to make myself happy again. A hair color wasn’t going to magically change my life for me. I was haunted by the demons of my life that was only handicapping my happiness. All these “new beginnings”, I wanted were never going to work until I changed myself. No haircut, hair color, change of clothes was going to change that. I had to work on myself on the inside and watch it work itself to the outside. Money wasn’t going to solve everything. While the 5 dollar bottle of box dye saved me from myself, it wasn’t a miracle worker. I still had a ways to go, but at that moment I felt okay. That’s all I wanted to feel.

I’m okay, I promise.

Six Hour session from Black Brown to Platinum Blonde:  $235  (not including tip)
Touch up roots, every month: $150 (not including tip)
Shampoo to maintain color: $29.99
Conditioner: $15.99
Deep Conditioning Treatment: $11.99
Blonde Spray Wax: $14.99
Blonde Wax: $9.99
Gas to get to appointments: $40 (appointments were out of town with a professional hair stylist)