silver

[sil-ver]

noun

1. Chemistry. a white, ductile metallic element, used for making mirrors, coins, ornaments, table utensils, photographic chemicals, conductors, etc. Symbol: Ag; atomic weight: 107.870; atomic number: 47; specific gravity: 10.5 at 20

7. a lustrous greyish white or whitish grey, or the colour of the metal:
the silver of the leaves.

lining

[lahy-ning]

noun

1. something that is used to line another thing; a layer of material on the inner side or surface of something.

2. Bookbinding. the material used to strengthen the back of a book after the sheets have been folded, backed, and sewed.

3. the act or process of lining

Source: extracts taken from Dictionary.com

 

Silver lining.

I don’t recall at what age my first grey hair appeared. I’d been colouring my hair for so long, purely for the enjoyment of it, I hadn’t noticed its subtle changes. Well not until my mid to late thirties, which was way too young to have to be worrying about grey hairs.

Then a few years ago, as I crossed the threshold into my fabulous forties, a huge adjustment took place when I went from colouring my hair for enjoyment, to colouring it for cover.

Hell no, you’re not staying there!

Whilst I was sick, I didn’t bother to cover them up, for I was housebound most of the time anyway. What was the point? Plus I was sick, I could get away with letting my grooming go a bit.

After I started to get well and began interacting with the outside world again, I promptly headed back to the hairdressers for my regular colour and tidy up or did it myself.

I felt I had to.

I had no choice.

I couldn’t go out in public a’ la natural, it just wasn’t done.

The mere thought of it put squirms in my stomach.

So for a further few more months, that’s what I did, religiously, covered the greys. What an arduous task it was. Not only was it messy, expensive, time consuming and laborious, my hair grew super-fast, almost un-ordinarily quick, having me colour it, on average about every three weeks.

Heck even that word put squirms in my stomach.
I couldn’t say it out loud that’s for sure – grey.

Grey.

Shiver.

Shudder.

Yuck.

Upon taking stock of how my health and healing were traveling, I came to the conclusion, which I could’ve reached much earlier had I been open to the possibility(!), that colouring my hair, even with as natural a product I could use, was not serving my healthiest self at all. No matter how much I tried to brainwash myself it was.

Okay, so I do have choice.

I can choose between…

Health or happiness?

I chose health.

I even chose a radical approach for me. I cut my hair short, after it being much loved longish for decades, so the transition to grey wasn’t such an extreme. I’d convinced myself it was only a temporary solution and if I didn’t like my hair short, I knew I could easily grow it long again.

Little did I know, how grateful I’d be in cutting my hair short, as it immediately thickened up and returned to its healthy volume once more. My hair had gotten unnaturally thin and brittle whilst I was sick, so much was falling out every day.

So with a head full of healthy hair and after a few attempts at going shorter, then shorter and shorter again until I found the right cut and style for me, I desired to make peace with these strands of shocking colour streaking through my now straight, short, no longer waves of loose locks, hairs on my head.

How was I ever going to make peace with this colour in my hair, if I couldn’t even say what colour it was – grey?

Grey.

Shiver.

Shudder.

Yuck.

I needed a plan. A different approach. A mind fuck of sorts.

I chose to refer to those flecks of shimmering light with a new fondness, by renaming them and claiming them as my Silver Linings.

Over time I grew to love those silver linings of mine and since we’ve come so far along our journey together today, if someone refers to them as grey, I don’t cringe anymore. I do however proudly introduce them as my Silver Linings.

I must confess too, there was a part of me determined to let go of this outrageous conditioning I’d so easily bought into and stick it to the man (so to speak), middle finger erect and all. I no longer wished to conform. I was ready to embrace my uniqueness, my individuality, my whole self, full worth and definitely feel (“good”) enough exactly as I am.

For a while there I did feel older than I was whilst transitioning to my new improved self.

Momentarily too, I missed no longer being mistaken for my daughters’ sister. Which in all honesty was highly egotistic of me. I no longer have the need to be seen as her sister, for I’m comfortable in my own skin. Feeling more like my daughters mum, than her sister, feels authentic and wholesome to me now.

Today I feel my age, if not younger and sexier, profoundly freer.

I don’t believe anyone is ever old. Sure we get older. We’re never truly old.

As an ageing person, usually referred to as old, whom is no longer able to take care of themselves, how do they get treated?  Like a child!

And so the cycle continues.

Therefore, with that logic, we’re never really old.

How I’d attached so much of who I was to the colour of my hair, is now beyond me.

Grateful I was, when I stopped and looked around, really opening my eyes and seeing how many gorgeous women there are in my life already rocking the a’ la natural. Had I been so vain previously that I was blinded by the light, the silver, glimmering, shiny light, of such empowering strength and beauty?

No, I just lived in my make believe bubble of blonde, brunette, red, dark brown, black, purple, green, blue, pink, etcetera, with no receptors to silver nor grey whatsoever.

Funnily enough, for men, it’s not such an issue. I would even add it’s the complete opposite. They are praised and adored for their silver linings. They’re revered and admired for the prestige and esteem in which they carry with them via the colour of their hair.

Why is it not the same for a woman?

Because we’ve allowed it to be so.

Not any more sunshine.

Silver linings are beautiful, sexy, hot, foxy, fashionable, handsome, desirable, and spunky – I could keep going on and on, regardless of gender.

For it has absolutely nothing to do with the way I look.

It has everything to do with how I feel.

Conform no more.

Break free.

Escape the conditioning.

Embrace the silver linings.

Embrace your complete beauty, exactly as you are.

By the way, in choosing health, I ended up with happiness too.

Silver lining.

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