When Pretty Hurts

I didn’t fall apart because my hair was gone.

That’s what people assumed. That’s what I thought at first too.

“I didn’t even lose that much hair,” I kept telling myself. “So why does my chest feel heavy?” “Why do I feel sick?” “Why am I grieving like someone died?”

It took me a minute to understand the truth.

I wasn’t grieving the length.
I was grieving… my curls.

—

The lie we were sold.

Since we were young, we were trained to believe:

Straight = pretty

Straight = acceptable

Straight = professional

Straight = “You look put together”

Curly?
“Too big.”
“Too wild.”
“Not polished.”
“Not serious.”

So even when we finally learn to love our curls…
there’s still this whisper in the back of our minds: “But straight is safer.”

—

I finally loved my curls… and then I abandoned them.

That’s the part that broke me.

For the first time in my life, I had taken care of my curls. Nurtured them. Protected them. Watched them flourish.

And they were BEAUTIFUL.

I trusted them.
I trusted ME.

Then one day, I sat in a chair… and chose a relaxer.

Not because I hated my curls.
But because deep down, a part of me still believed the old lie: “Straight is better.”

That’s what shattered me.

It wasn’t the chemical.
It was the self-betrayal.

—

The moment it hit me…

I stood in the mirror and said out loud:

It’s not that I lost length…
It’s that I lost my curl pattern.
I lost my identity.

That was the moment the grief punched me in the chest.

Because I didn’t just change my hair.
I silenced a version of me I fought HARD to become.

—

The grief no one talks about:

We talk about hair damage. We talk about breakage. We talk about “starting over.”

But we don’t talk about the emotional grief.

The grief of losing your identity.
The grief of not trusting yourself.
The grief of going back to what you healed from.

The grief of starting the journey over… again.

It wasn’t vanity.
It was mourning.

I wasn’t crying about hair.

I was crying because…

I worked so hard to love my natural self.

I finally felt safe in my own texture.

I finally said, “This is me.”

And then I didn’t trust her enough to stay.

That’s what hurt.
That’s what broke me open.

But here’s the part I didn’t expect…

Even after the relaxer, Even after the tears, Even after the “Why did I do this to myself?”

…my roots are still growing in.

Curls still coming back.

My hair is forgiving me.
My body is healing me.
God is restoring me.

And I realized something powerful:

My identity was never just in the curls. It was in the way I chose to love myself.

—

If this is you too…

If you’ve ever gone back to something you thought you left behind… If you’ve ever made a choice out of fear or pressure… If you’ve ever looked in the mirror and felt that grief…

You are not crazy. You are not dramatic. You are not weak.

You are human.
You are evolving.
You are allowed to grieve.
And you are still worthy of softness.

My curls will come back.

So will my trust.
So will my power.

This time, I won’t just grow hair.

I’ll grow back HOME to myself.

And this time… I’m staying.