By: Jana Greene

I had a good hair day last week. A really good hair day. I took it down from its obligatory summer messy bun (think more Ms. Truchbull from the movie “Matilda” than Lady Gaga) and it just so happened to fall in cascades, wavy from the elastic band that had been strangling it for an embarrassing three days in a row.

At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was a bed-bound day, as many of mine are. I have a connective tissue disorder that causes progressive and chronic pain. I wasn’t leaving the house that day. Naturally, I shared it with the audience I had on hand.

So I say to my three cats, “LOOK at my HAIR!” Two of whom didn’t even bother to wake up (bastards!) but I think the one who was awake admired it a bit. Or was sending me subliminal messages to feed her early. Not sure which.

Then I pulled out my phone and took a selfie to record the event of the Good Hair Day, as I have them with about the same frequency as a lunar eclipse.

And after I snapped a pic, I felt silly. Like, REALLY silly.

I had a flashback to when I was a kid and was riding in the passenger seat. I was about 12, and the person driving – a very influential lady in my life – sneered at me when I pulled down the mirror on the visor to check my hairdo. “Oh, I guess you think you look pretty cute,” she said in a mean tone. I remember my face burning with shame.

My face burned with shame a lot when I was a child, because I really, really wanted to be a good girl and not be “full of myself.”  Being “full of yourself” was a very bad thing, especially in the eyes of God.

Whether by the opinions of others or my own self-flagellation, this creed followed me around: Tone down EVERYTHING.

Tone down your crazy sense of humor. Tone down your expectations. Tone down your confidence, if you had any. Tone down your opinions. Just tone it down, for the greater good.

So the first 40 years of my life I spent trying to tone it down. For many of those years, I used alcohol as the agent to accomplish this. But in 2001, I got sober and something had to give. The journey of self-discovery started in earnest then. It is still in progress.

I give this backstory to segue into a synopsis of self-actualization. Although certainly not all women experience the same things, I believe society at large tends to send us mixed messages, and it starts when we are very young.

As little girls, we are told not to be haughty when we feel cute.

When we are perceived as haughty, we are told to rein in thinking too much of ourselves, lest we actually believe we are acceptable. So we become full of (fill-in-the-blank) instead. It’s easier for other people to digest our existence unmanageable, small bites, lest we be too much for some.

We laugh to cope, and are told we aren’t taking life seriously enough.

We allow ourselves to face our depression and anxiety head-on, only to be reminded to “smile” endlessly, because we’re prettier that way.

We are told to believe we are beautiful just as we are, then we grow up to feel compelled to shave our eyebrows of and paint them on halfway up our foreheads, for crying out loud.

We are told that bodies come in all shapes and sizes, yet are often assumed to be lazy or practice poor self discipline if we don’t have the “perfect” physique.

Articles in the same women’s magazine extol the virtue of loving ourselves as we age, followed by tips to look 10 years younger just a few pages further.

We cry, only to be told as little girls that we’ll be given “something to cry about” if we don’t stop.

We are pounded with the idea that God loves us, only to be told that we’d damn skippy better get it together, lest we be punished. We live our lives under the oppressive weight of his so-called expectations; leaving us no other conclusion but that we are inherently bad.

We are encouraged to go after what makes our hearts happy, but we seldom have any idea what exactly that is. We haven’t taken the time to learn what we love.

When we do discover what we love, we often set it aside as silly or frivolous, as it may not benefit others.

We are taught that “no” is a complete sentence, but often feel shamed when we employ it.

We scrimp on self-care, because what about the needs of everyone else? There is often nothing left of ourselves to give to ourselves.

We are told the opinions of others do not define us, only to let those opinions of others become our very identities, if we are not careful.

We are told to break free of the expectations of our ancestors, but inside we really just want to please our mothers.

We are told we are strong and powerful, while being reminded this is still “a man’s world.”

Oy vey, so many paradoxes are a part of every woman’s life!

I guess I’m trying to say YOU ARE OKAY. You are actually far better than “okay,” because so long as you use your big personality and desires for good instead of evil, it’s perfectly okay to love yourself. Oh my God, just LOOK at you, Lady! You’re a masterpiece whose energies make the world a better place.

No shame necessary.

So, take that selfie. You’re awfully cute!

Be silly on purpose.

Talk to God. He’s not mad at you!

Cry if you need to.

Laugh TONS.

Say NO. And say YES to yourself, you gorgeous creature.

And about that self care? Indulge yourself with a bubble bath. Read that awesome book. Eat three square meals a day. All the lovely little things you’ve been doing for everyone else all these years?

Do them for YOU!

(Oh, but don’t expect your cats to appreciate your efforts…)

God bless, sweet, strong, and sassy sisters. ❤