Change.

Last night, one of my roommates cut all of my hair off. All of it being the latter six inches that still had a few glimpses of golden highlights from the last time I dyed it three years ago, which are now blending into our faux-Parisian area rug that covers the stark white dorm tiles.  

I absolutely hate it and I didn’t even try to hide it. All I asked for was just a few layers, nothing drastic, and most certainly no length at all, not even a trim. I haven’t gotten my hair cut since before college due to a horrendous haircut of a similar degree, I am now a second-semester sophomore. I lost my entire identity and the prettiest hair I had ever had, but I used it as an opportunity to reinvent myself before I entered one of the most pivotal chapters of my life, college. I let go of the heavy year and summer I had and accepted the change with open arms, after a few tears of course. I dove headfirst into that new chapter, but I still hadn’t cut my hair since then besides a few trims and the addition of layers here and there.

In my creative nonfiction class, we were talking about how to make comics identifiable as characters and one of the main ways is capturing the essence of their hair the same in every frame to create a recognizable consistency. Should I still draw myself the same or do I have to change my character completely? Do I have to scrap all the half-finished projects?

I know I couldn’t be mad when I turned around for the big reveal because I did ask her to cut my hair knowing she wasn’t a cosmetologist, but I could be upset (sorry, Grace, if you are reading this) because hair holds memories and I felt like I just lost so many. In many cultures, people grow their hair long for spiritual reasons to symbolize their identity and it is only to be cut in certain ceremonies or rituals. I had no warning, I just had loss.  

Now, I am aware of how dramatic this sounds—but if you know me, then you know that’s perfectly on par with my character, my identity. The only way for me to cope with my hair that was down to my belly button and now reaches only just past my armpits was to understand that everything happens for a reason and that maybe a big change was on the horizon and I needed to let go of some things to move on to the next chapter, just like the last time this great incident occurred.  

There was a full moon in Virgo this past weekend, the last full moon of the astrological year which symbolizes turning points, culminations, endings, or awakenings, which aligns perfectly with the lesson I was reminded of: change is uncomfortable, yet inevitable. My best friend always says she hates change and maybe that’s the reason that she ended up transferring colleges after one semester, but I never seemed to have a problem with it. I was never even homesick when I first came to college and physically moved my entire life to start over, yet I can’t seem to accept my hair being six inches shorter. I was so attached to having my long hair, how I hadn’t cut it in nearly two years, and how I wanted it long for the summer until I would cut it right before I moved to Italy for my fall study abroad semester. I was going to cut it eventually, just not now. Not a week before my sorority's date party when I planned to have it styled—still long and beautiful. And not a week before my twentieth birthday, but I guess that is the point. 

On my fourth birthday, I was sitting in pre-k across from my crush and I seemingly forgot that there was a candle in the ice cream cone sitting in front of me until my hair was singed up to my chin. This was the longest my hair had ever been as a four-year-old with not much time to grow it out, so I of course was not happy when I had to start all over and then start kindergarten the next year with a bob. Maybe I have always been dramatic, or maybe I have horrible luck with haircuts, or possibly it may turn out that I am actually quite horrible at dealing with change, especially when it is unwarranted.

I don’t think that is a bad thing per se, but it is an important thing. A lot has happened since I started college, and I can wholeheartedly say that I am an entirely different person now. I wasn’t too involved in high school, but I had big dreams. In college, I have fully immersed myself in those dreams as I hold multiple leadership positions on campus that regard my future goals and I have even bigger plans brewing. I have gotten my writing published in literary magazines and have done social media marketing and public relations work for many different organizations, which are dreams that I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually achieve so early on in my life. I have also experienced a ton of heartbreak and disappointments during college so far as I had to learn the cardinal rules that frat boys will never love you and going back to your ex will never work out. 

I guess there is a lot that I do have to let go and maybe getting a horrible haircut by one of my close friends was the only way that I was going to see it. I am moving out of my juvenile "live life and make mistakes" era as I have learned many lessons in life, love, and career from said mistakes to the point where I have found myself again. I know what I want to do after college and I know what I have to do to get there. I know that only things that are meant to be will stay, and I know that it is okay if some things go. This being said, there is always going to be more to learn, but I am moving forward into a mindset of only inviting in the things that are beneficial for me and my character arc. I am doing the things: applying to internships, moving to Italy, getting so involved in my positions that I have no time for myself, and enjoying every second of it.  

In this new chapter that has struck itself in the form of a ten-dollar scissor set off of Amazon, I am entering my twenties. That’s insane. I would love to not talk about that, but, once again, change is uncomfortable, and it is inevitable. Everyone always says your twenties are the best years of your life, although they are somehow your hardest. College is like a safety net between high school and adulthood, but soon, I’ll have to face it on my own. I’m just now realizing how old I am getting as I started creating this blog when I was thirteen with big ideas and no idea where to start. This was my starting place and it’s gotten me somewhere, now I just have to keep climbing up the opportunities that present themselves.  

Thank you to those who read all of this and hope you think about what change you might need to embrace in your own life to move forward. I also want to apologize for putting you on blast, Grace, if you're still here because 1) you are not a licensed professional and I knew that 2) I think I needed this even though I cringe every time I look at myself in the mirror 3) now I know to never give you scissors again... I love you and I am grateful for a friendship where you can ruin my hair and I still want to hang out with you later.

-Emma Claire Ritter