high tops and hair dye

i once updated my facebook status, 'there's therapy in hair dye' sorta as a joke. on the surface, it is. ah, but it never stops there, does it?

there are a handful of you that know parts of my past. i'd like to keep it there for the most part, but thought i would let some of the crap that's been surfacing take some air. it's practically begging to breathe anyway. (no matter how much time passes, there's always side effects, huh? stuff just bubbles up at the most random times...) 

once upon a time there was this boy who married me. and then he made my life terrible. long, natural brown hair pulled back into a bun without makeup wearing flowing sundresses in the kitchen while barefoot was the look to achieve to please this boy. dress like a lady, and low top converse is as punk as we get around here. at risk of who knows what happening, i succumbed to the drabness. 

well like you would have guessed, that didn't solve anything. 

throw in a bunch of other problems, fast forward and naomi is left alone feeling like an empty corpse. it felt strange to be in my own company. i didn't really know who i was and being there alone with ME was a little unsettling. how could one person take away the very core of who i am? not only did i lose this man, i also lost every single fiber of who i was. i used to like my old self. and now she's gone too. 

while i waited for my heart to heal, i did what i could to pick back up where i left off BEFORE all this happened. i started with the little things. so on the computer i went. i visited the converse all star website where you could create your own custom made shoes. so naturally, i skipped past the low top option and went for the extra high top option. i put skulls on them and had 'naomi rose' embroidered on the sides, just so i was sure i'd remember who i was. that sounds really stupid. but you do what you gotta do sometimes. i asked no one how much money was too much money to spend on a pair of shoes…i bought those pricey things like it was pocket change. 

and then the hair. oh the hair. it changes so often, how does one keep up? every time i color or chop away at it, i have a little peace come over me. that sounds so shallow to say that i find peace in my hair. but here's to being honest. he isn't here anymore. every brushstroke of hair color is a reminder of that. and as i sit there while it processes, i'm grateful for every minute that passes that i'm living in colorful rebellion. everytime i put those shoes on, i walk with a little spring in my step knowing he'd hate them. 

i thank the lord above for giving me strength to get thru the shit that life deals out. i thank him for giving me good friends and family to stand by me. but sometimes it's the little things in life that need proper mention. 

i am thankful for obnoxious hairstyles and punk rock footwear for reminding myself who i am and helping me rebel against what he wanted me to be. 

end.