Pinking Out Loud - How I Stop Being Scared and Embraced Who I am

Many people ask me why my hair is pink. They claim it's courageous, to pick such an unusual color for one's hair. After I joke about it being my natural color, my answer is always the same - everything about me is pink. It's kind of who I am.

(They call me "The Pink Warrior" at the gym)

I haven't always been pink. For many years, my life and my soul were a dark dark brown and I looked up to people who had the optimism and courage to live their lives the way they wanted to. From inside my deep hole of dark despair, I envied those who felt happiness. I begrudged them for it. You can't blame me, really. Living with chronic pain (fibromyalgia) and several sleep disorders made it increasingly hard to for me to do what I really wanted, and be the person I really want to be.

(GrumPINK cat)

The pink didn't happen all at once. It was a process. I didn't dive all in, bleach my hair and pink it up overnight. Despite what people think, I don't have that much courage. It was a process of close to a decade. First I dyed the edges. Then a bit more. Then, eventually, I reached the point where I was ready to go all pink. It was meant to be.

(Pink around the edges)

Over time, I grew. I stopped caring so much about what other people think. About what my family thinks. Bit by bit, I colored my life pink. I chose a polyamorous lifestyle, started wearing funner clothes and let myself be open to more experiences. The pink continued to crawl up my hair and into my perception of reality.

But what really helped push me forward, was falling down. A little over a year ago I went through a messy breakup with my ex-wife. My husband supported me through it, and somewhere in the middle of my decompilation as a human being I realized that I had two options: kill myself and stop all the emotional and physical pain or fight like a mad woman to survive and live.

(Mad woman in pink, getting a stripe on her belt in BJJ. Ossss!!!)

Since you're reading these words, you can probably guess what I picked. I chose pink. I chose to fight. Mostly myself, as I still drifted toward the familiar black darkness that I've lived in for so many years. It took work, and a lot of pink hair dye over the last year and a bit, but I am in a much happier place now. I've accepted my diagnosis of cPTSD and got treatment, even though I never believed in therapy. I stopped caring about what people who are not close to me think, and started caring more about what I think and feel. I finally decided to put myself first, and not feel bad for being selfish. It's important sometimes.

(I don't care what you pink!)

My pinkness isn't just a fashion choice, or a means of self expression. The pink hair, clothes and accessories aren't there to attract attention. They are there to remind me of the person I've become. Of the color I chose for my life.

It was a long way, covered with fifty shades of green-to-brown poo. But today, I am pink. It's who I am, and if I can - so can you. Pick you color, your sound, your spirit animal and be THAT - be who you want to be. No one's opinion matters more than yours.

At the end of the day? People will envy your courage more than they will criticize your choice to be who you are. You don't even need to bleach your hair.

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(Note: As you can see above, my verification stamp is pink. Yes, I demanded it that way.)