In my 35th year, I dyed my hair blue, and I never regretted it.
Except for the part where I also dyed my skin blue, but after I fixed THAT I never regretted it.
If you knew me in real life you would know that the whole idea of me dying my hair blue is laughable. I never do anything to draw attention to myself.
Early on I learned that different was bad. I was different. I was poor. I was fat. I was bullied. I was scorned. I was used. I was a laughing stock.
I became such a dormant, quiet creature that I ceased to exist. I went along with whatever the person in charge told me to do. I quit voicing any opinion I had on anything.
I learned the disappear.
By the time I graduated high school I suffered from an intense depression and a case of anxiety that can be crippling at times.
By the time I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s I began to want to “find myself.” Because, without a doubt, there was none of ME left in the shell that was my body.
The problem with disappearing when you are young is that you forget how to be SEEN!
I tried this, I tried that, I kept rubber-banding back to depression and invisibility.
So (after clearing it with my boss) I dyed my hair, and suddenly I was being SEEN.
For 35 years I was ignored unless someone wanted something from me. Suddenly random people were shouting out across the room, “Hey! I like your hair!”
And they said it without giggling behind their hands afterward. They meant it. They really did.
I had blue hair, and I liked it, and I had blue hair, and other people liked it.
It took years to perfect my invisibility. It will probably take years more to fix it.
The anxiety is still there, bad as ever. The depression is still there, and it get worse after every down cycle. The urge to disappear into the woodwork if there is more than 2 people in a room is still there.
But in my 35th year, I became known as “the girl with blue hair.”
And that’s a step in the right direction.